" 


PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 


JBttK.  OE  CALIF,  &IBRAHY,  IDS  ANGELES 


PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 


ETHEL  HUESTON 

Authir  if 

Prudence  of  the  Parsonage 


WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS  BY 

ARTHUR  WILLIAM  BROWN 


INDIANAPOLIS 

THE  BOBBS-MERRILL  COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT  1916 
THE  BOBBS-MERRILL  COMPANY 


PRESS  or 

BRAUNWORTH    i    CO. 

BOOKBINDERS    AND    PRINTERS 

JUiOOKLYN.    N.    Y. 


r. 

MY   LITTLE  DAUGHTIB 

ELIZABETH 

MT COMRADE  AND  MT 
IN8PIKATJON 


213O182 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAG« 

I  THE  CHAPERON           '•  "  .'  1 

II   SCIENCE  AND  HEALTH 19 

III  A  GIFT  FROM  HEAVEN 39 

IV  How  CAROL  SPOILED  THE  WEDDING         ...  68 
V  THE  SERENADE           80 

VI   SUBSTITUTION 95 

VII   MAKING  MATCHES 114 

VIII   LARK'S  LITERARY  VENTURE 130 

IX  A  CLEAR  CALL 154 

X  JERRY  JUNIOR 179 

XI  THE  END  OF  FAIRY 193 

XII   SOWING  SEEDS 209 

XIII  THE  CONNIE  PROBLEM 222 

XIV  BOOSTING  CONNIE 238 

XV  A  MILLIONAIRE'S  SON 252 

XVI  THE  TWINS  HAVE  A  PROPOSAL 277 

XVII  THE  GIRL  WHO  WOULDN'T  PROPOSE  297 


PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 


PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

CHAPTER  I 

THE  CHAPERON 

44^^  IRLS, — come  down !  Quick ! — I  want  to  see 

Vj  how  you  look!" 

Prudence  stood  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  deftly 
drawing  on  her  black  silk  gloves, — gloves  still  good 
in  Prudence's  eyes,  though  Fairy  had  long  since 
discarded  them  as  unfit  for  service.  There  was  open 
anxiety  in  Prudence's  expression,  and  puckers  of 
worry  perpendicularly  creased  her  white  forehead. 

"Girls !"  she  called  again.  "Come  down !  Father, 
you'd  better  hurry, — it's  nearly  train  time.  Girls, 
are  you  deaf !" 

Her  insistence  finally  brought  response.  A  door 
opened  in  the  hallway  above,  and  Connie  started 
down  the  stairs,  fully  dressed,  except  that  she  limped 
along  in  one  stocking- foot,  her  shoe  in  her  hand. 

I 


2  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

"It's  so  silly  of  you  to  get  all  dressed  before 
you  put  on  your  shoes,  Connie,"  Prudence 
reproved  her  as  she  came  down.  "It  wrinkles  you 
up  so.  But  you  do  look  nice.  Wasn't  it  dear  of  the 
Ladies'  Aid  to  give  you  that  dress  for  your  birth- 
day? It's  so  dainty  and  sweet, — and  goodness 
knows  you  needed  one.  They  probably  noticed  that. 
Let  me  fix  your  bow  a  little.  Do  be  careful,  dear, 
and  don't  get  mussed  before  we  come  back.  Aunt 
Grace  will  be  so  much  gladder  to  live  with  us  if  we 
all  look  sweet  and  clean.  And  you'll  be  good,  won't 
you,  Connie,  and —  Twins,  will  you  come!" 

"They  are  sewing  up  the  holes  in  each  other's 
stockings,"  Connie  vouchsafed.  "They're  all  dress- 
ed." 

The  twins,  evidently  realizing  that  Prudence's 
patience  was  near  the  breaking  point,  started  down- 
stairs for  approval,  a  curious  procession.  All  dressed 
as  Connie  had  said,  and  most  charming,  but  they 
walked  close  together,  Carol  stepping  gingerly  on 
one  foot  and  Lark  stooping  low,  carrying  a  needle 
with  great  solicitude, — the  thread  reaching  from  the 
needle  to  a  small  hole  on  Carol's  instep. 

"What  on  earth  are  you  doing?" 


THE  CHAPERON  3 

"I'm  sewing  up  the  holes  in  Carol's  stocking," 
Lark  explained.  "If  you  had,  waited  a  min- 
ute I  would  have  finished —  Hold  still,  Carol, — don't 
walk  so  jerky  or  you'll  break  the  thread.  There 
were  five  holes  in  her  left  stocking,  Prudence,  and 
I'm—" 

Prudence  frowned  disapprovingly.  "It's  a  very 
bad  habit  to  sew  up  holes  in  your  stockings  when 
you  are  wearing  them.  If  you  had  darned  them 
all  yesterday  as  I  told  you,  you'd  have  had  plenty 
of —  Mercy,  Lark,  you  have  too  much  power  on!" 

"I  know  it, — Carol  did  it.  She  said  she  wanted 
me  to  be  of  an  intellectual  pallor."  Lark  mopped 
her  face  with  one  hand. 

"You'd  better  not  mention  to  papa  that  we 
powdered  to-day,"  Carol  suggested.  "He's  upset. 
It's  very  hard  for  a  man  to  be  reasonable  when 
he's  upset,  you  know." 

"You  look  nice,  twins."  Prudence  advanced  a 
step,  her  eyes  on  Carol's  hair,  sniffing  suspicious- 
ly. "Carol,  did  you  curl  your  hair?" 

Carol  blushed.  "Well,  just  a  little,"  she  con- 
fessed. "I  thought  Aunt  Grace  would  appreciate 
me  more  with  a  crown  of  frizzy  ringlets," 


4  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

"You'll  spoil  your  hair  if  you  don't  leave  it  alone, 
and  it  will  serve  you  right,  too.  It's  very  pretty 
as  it  is  naturally, — plenty  curly  enough  and — 
Oh,  Fairy,  I  know  Aunt  Grace  will  love  you,"  she 
cried  ecstatically.  "You  look  like  a  dream,  you — 

"Yes,  — a  nightmare,"  said  Carol  snippily.  "If 
I  saw  Fairy  coming  at  me  on  a  dark  night  I'd — 

"Papa,  we'll  miss  the  train!"  Then  as  he  came 
slowly  down  the  stairs,  she  said  to  her  sisters  again 
anxiously :  "Oh,  girls,  do  keep  nice  and  clean,  won't 
you  ?  And  be  very  sweet  to  Aunt  Grace !  It's  so — 
awfully  good  of  her — to  come — and  take  care  of 
us, — "  Prudence's  voice  broke  a  little.  The  admis- 
sion of  another  to  the  parsonage  mothering  hurt 
her. 

Mr.  Starr  stopped  on  the  bottom  step,  and  with 
one  foot  as  a  pivot,  slowly  revolved  for  his 
daughters'  inspection. 

"How  do  I  look  ?"  he  demanded.  "Do  you  think 
this  suit  will  convince  Grace  that  I  am  worth  taking 
care  of  ?  Do  I  look  twenty-five  dollars  better  than 
I  did  yesterday?" 

THe  girls  gazed  at  him  with"  most  adoring  and 
exclamatory  approval. 


THE  CHAPERON  5 

"Father!  You  look  perfectly  grand! — Isn't  it 
beautiful? — Of  course,  you  looked  nicer  than  any- 
body else  even  in  the  old  suit,  but — it — well,  it 
was — " 

"Perfectly  'disgracefully  shabby,"  put  in  Fairy 
quickly.  "Entirely  unworthy  a  minister  of  your — 
er — lovely  'family!" 

"I  hope  none  of  you  have  let  it  out  among  the 
members  how  long  I  wore  that  old  suit.  I  don't 
believe  I  could  face  my  congregation  on  Sundays 
if  I  thought  they  were  mentally  calculating  the 
wearing  value  of  my  various  garments. — We'll 
have  to  go,  Prudence. — You  all  look  very  fine — • 
a  credit  to  the  parsonage — and  I  am  sure  Aunt 
Grace  will  think  us  well  worth  living  with." 

"And  don't  muss  the  house  up,"  begged  Pru- 
dence, as  her  father  opened  the  door  and  pushed 
her  gently  out  on  the  step. 

The  four  sisters  left  behind  looked  at  one  another 
solemnly.  It  was  a  serious  business, — most  seri- 
ous. Connie  gravely  put  on  her  shoe,  and  but- 
toned it.  Lark  sewed  up  the  last  hole  in  Carol's 
Stocking,- — Carol  balancing  herself  on  one  foot  with 
nice  precision  for  the  purpose.  Then,  all  ready, 


6  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

they  looked  at  one  another  again, — even  more  sol- 
emnly. 

"Well,"  said  Fairy,  "let's  go  in— and  wait." 

Silently  the  others  followed  her  in,  and  they 
all  sat  about,  irreproachably,  on  the  well-dusted 
chairs,  their  hands  folded  Methodistically  in  their 
smooth  and  spotless  laps. 

The  silence,  and  the  solemnity,  were  very  op- 
pressive. 

"We  look  all  right,"  said  Carol  belligerently. 

No  one  answered. 

"I'm  sure  Aunt  Grace  is  as  sweet  as  anybody 
could  be,"  she  added  presently. 

Dreary  silence! 

"Don't  we  love  her  better  than  anybody  on  earth, 
— except  ourselves?" 

Then,  when  the  silence  continued,  her  courage 
waned.  "Oh,  girls,"  she  whimpered,  "isn't  it  aw- 
ful? It's  the  beginning  of  the  end  of  everything. 
Outsiders  have  to  come  in  now  to  take  care  of  us, 
and  Prudence'll  get  married,  and  then  Fairy  will, 
and  maybe  us  twins, — I  mean,  we  twins.  And 
then  there'll  only  be  father  and  Connie  left,  and 
Miss  Greet,  or  some  one,  will  get  ahead  of  father 


THE  CHAPERON  7 

after  all, — and  Connie'll  have  to  live  with  a  step- 
mother, and — it'll  never  seem  like  home  any  more, 
and—" 

Connie  burst  into  loud  and  mournful  wails. 

"You're  very  silly,  Carol,"  Fairy  said  sternly. 
"Very  silly,  indeed.  I  don't  see  much  chance  of 
any  of  us  getting  married  very  soon.  And  Pru- 
dence will  be  here  nearly  a  year  yet.  'And — Aunt 
Grace  is  as  sweet  and  dear  a  woman  as  ever  lived 
— mother's  own  sister — and  she  loves  us  dearly 
and—" 

"Yes,"  agreed  Lark,  "but  it's  not  like  having 
Prudence  at  the  head  of  things." 

"Prudence  will  be  at  the  head  of  things  for 
nearly  a  year,  and — I  think  we're  mighty  lucky  to 
get  Aunt  Grace.  It's  not  many  women  would  be 
willing  to  leave  a  fine  stylish  home,  with  a  hun- 
dred dollars  to  spend  on  just  herself,  and  with  a 
maid  to  wait  on  her,  and  come  to  an  ugly  old  house 
like  this  to  take  care  of  a  preacher  and  a  riotous 
family  like  ours.  It's  very  generous  of  Aunt  Grace 
• — very." 

"Yes,  it  is,"  admitted  Lark.  "And  as  long  as 
she  was  our  aunt  with  her  fine  homet  and  her  hun- 


8  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

dred  dollars  a  month,  and  her  maid,  I  loved  her 
dearly.  But — I  don't  want  anybody  coming  in  to 
manage  us.  We  can  manage  ourselves.  We — 

"We  need  a  chaperon,"  put  in  Fairy  deftly.  "She 
isn't  going  to  do  the  housework,  or  the  managing, 
or  anything.  She's  just  our  chaperon.  It  isn't 
proper  for  us  to  live  without  one,  you  know.  We're 
too  young.  It  isn't — conventional." 

"And  for  goodness'  sake,  Connie,"  said  Carol, 
"remember  and  call  her  our  chaperon,  and  don't 
talk  about  a  housekeeper.  There's  some  style  to 
a  chaperon." 

"Yes,  indeed,"  said  Fairy  cheerfully.  "And  she 
wears  such  pretty  clothes,  and  has  such  pretty  man- 
ners that  she  will  be  a  distinct  acquisition  to  the 
parsonage.  We  can  put  on  lots  more  style,  of 
course.  And  then  it  was  awfully  nice  of  her  to 
send  so  much  of  her  good  furniture, — the  piano,  for 
instance,  to  take  the  place  of  that  old  tin  pan  of 
ours." 

Carol  smiled  a  little.  "If  she  had  written,  'Dear 
John:  I  can't  by  any  means  live  in  a  house  with 
furniture  like  that  of  yours,  so  you'll  have  to  let 
me  bring  some  of  my  own,' — wouldn't  we  have 


THE  CHAPERON  9 

been  furious?    That  was  what  she  meant  all  right, 
but  she  put  it  very  neatly." 

"Yes.     'I  love  some  of  my  things  so  dearly,' ' 
Lark  quoted  promptly,  "  'and  have  lived  with  them 
so  long  that  I  am  too  selfish  to  part  with  them. 
May  I  bring  a  few  pieces  along  ?'    Yes,  it  was  pretty 
cute  of  her." 

"And  do  remember,  girls,  that  you  mustn't  ask 
her  to  darn  your  stockings,  and  wash  your  hand- 
kerchiefs, and  do  your  tasks  about  the  house.  It 
would  be  disgraceful.  And  be  careful  not  to  hint 
for  things  you  want,  for,  of  course,  Aunt  Grace 
will  trot  off  and  buy  them  for  you  and  papa 
will  not  like  it.  You  twins'll  have  to  be  very  care- 
ful to  quit  dreaming  about  silk  stockings,  for  in- 
stance." There  was  a  tinge  of  sarcasm  in  Fairy's 
voice  as  she  said  this. 

"Fairy,  we  did  dream  about  silk  stockings — you 
don't  need  to  believe  it  if  you  don't  want  to.  But 
we  did  dream  about  them  just  the  same!"  Carol 
sighed.  "I  think  I  could  be  more  reconciled  to 
Aunt  Grace  if  I  thought  she'd  give  me  a  pair  of 
silk  stockings.  You  know,  Fairy,  sometimes  lately 
I  almos-t — don't  like  A'unt  Grace — any  more." 


io  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

"That's  very  foolish  and  very  wicked,"  declared 
Fairy.  "I  love  her  dearly.  I'm  so  glad  she's  come 
to  live  with  us." 

"Are  you?"  asked  Connie  innocently.  "Then 
why  did  you  go  up  in  the  attic  and  cry  all  morning 
when  Prudence  was  fixing  the  room  for  her?" 

Fairy  blushed,  and  caught  her  under  lip  between 
her  teeth  for  a  minute.  And  then,  in  a  changed 
voice  she  said,  "I — I  do  love  her,  and — I  am  glad — 
but  I  keep  thinking  ahead  to  when  Prudence  gets 
married,  and — and — oh,  girls,  Prudence  was  all  set- 
tled in  the  parsonage  ^vhen  I  was  born,  and  she's 
been  here  ever  since,  and — when  she  is  gone  it — it 
won't  be  any  home  to  me  at  all !" 

Her  voice  rose  on  the  last  words  in  a  way  most 
pitifully  suggestive  of  tears. 

For  a  moment  there  was  a  stricken  silence. 

"Oh,  pooh!"  Carol  said  at  last,  bravely.  "You 
wouldn't  want  Prue  to  stick  around  and  be  an  old 
maid,  would  you?  I  think  she's  mighty  lucky  to 
get  a  fellow  as  nice  as  Jerry  Harmer  myself.  I'll 
bet  you  don't  make  out  half  as  well,  Fairy.  I  think 
she'd  be  awfully  silly  not  to  gobble  him  right  up 


THE  CHAPERON  n 

while  she  has  a  chance.  For  my  own  part,  I  don't 
believe  in  old  maids.  I  think  it  is  a  religious  duty 
for  folks  to  get  married,  and — and — you  know  what 
I  mean, — race  suicide,  you  know."  She  nodded  her 
head  sagely,  winking  one  eye  in  a  most  intelligent 
fashion. 

"And  Aunt  Grace  is  so  quiet  she'll  not  be  any 
bother  at  all,"  added  Lark.  "Don't  you  remem- 
ber how  she  always  sits  around  and  smiles  at  us,  and 
never  says  anything.  She  won't  scold  a  bit. — May- 
be Carol  and  I  will  get  a  chance  to  spend  some  of 
our  spending  money  when  she  takes  charge.  Pru- 
dence confiscates  it  all  for  punishment.  I  think  it's 
going  to  be  lots  of  fun  having  Aunt  Grace  with  us." 

"I'm  going  to  take  my  dime  and  buy  her  some- 
thing," Connie  announced  suddenly. 

The  twins  whirled  on  her  sharply.  "Your  dime !" 
echoed  Carol. 

"I  didn't  know  you  had  a  dime,"  said  Lark. 

Connie  flushed  a  little.  "Yes, —  Oh,  yes, — •"  she 
said,  "I've  got  a  dime.  I — I  hid  it.  I've  got  a  dime 
all  right." 

"It's  nearly  time,"     said  Fairy  restlessly.  "Num- 


12  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

her  Nine  has  been  on  time  for  two  mornings  now, 
— so  she'll  probably  be  here  in  time  for  dinner.  It's 
only  ten  o'clock  now." 

"You  mean  luncheon,"  suggested  Carol. 

"Yes,  luncheon,  to  be  sure,  fair  sister." 

"Where'd  you  get  that  dime,  Connie?" 

"Oh,  I've  had  it  some  time,"  Connie  admitted  re- 
luctantly. 

"When  I  asked  you  to  lend  me  a  dime  you 
said—" 

"You  asked  me  if  I  had  a  dime  I  could  lend  you 
and  I  said,  No,  and  I  didn't,  for  I  didn't  have  this 
(dime  to  lend." 

"But  where  have  you  had  it?"  inquired  Lark. 
"I  thought  you  acted  suspicious  some  way,  so  I  went 
around  and  looked  for  myself." 

"Where  did  you  look?" 

[The  twins  laughed  gleefully.  "Oh,  on  top  of 
the  windows  and  doors,"  said  Carol. 

"How  did  you  know — "  began  Connie. 

"You  aren't  slick  enough  for  us,  Connie.  We 
knew  you  had  some  funny  place  to  hide  your  money, 
so  I  gave  you  that  penny  and  then  I  went  up-stairs 
very  noisily  so  you  could  hear  me,  and  Lark  sneaked 


THE  CHAPERON  13 

around  and  watched,  and  saw  where  you  put  it. 
We've  been  able  to  keep  pretty  good  track  of  your 
finances  lately." 

The  twins  laughed  again. 

"But  I  looked  on  the  top  ledge  of  all  the  win- 
dows and  doors  just  yesterday,"  admitted  Lark, 
"and  there  was  nothing  there.  Did  you  put  that 
dime  in  the  bank?" 

"Oh,  never  mind,"  said  Connie.  "I  don't  need 
to  tell  you.  You  twins  are  too  slick  for  me,  you 
know." 

The  twins  looked  slightly  fussed,  especially  when 
Fairy  laughed  with  a  merry,  "Good  for  you,  Con- 
nie." 

Carol  rose  and  looked  at  herself  in  the  glass.  "I'm 
going  up-stairs,"  she  said. 

"What  for?"  inquired  Lark,  rising  also. 

"I  need  a  little  more  powder.    My  nose  is  shiny." 

So  the  twins  went  up-stairs,  and  Fairy,  after  call- 
ing out  to  them  to  be  very  careful  and  not  get  dis- 
heveled, went  out  into  the  yard  and  wandered  dole- 
fully about  by  herself. 

Connie  meantime  decided  to  get  her  well-hidden 
dime  and  figure  out  what  ten  cents  could  buy  for 


14  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

her  fastidious  and  wealthy  aunt.  Connie  was  in 
many  ways  unique.  Her  system  of  money-hiding 
was  born  of  nothing  less  than  genius,  prompted  by 
necessity,  for  the  twins  were  clever  as  well  as  grasp- 
ing. She  did  not  know  they  had  discovered  her 
plan  of  banking  on  the  top  ledge  of  the  windows  and 
doors,  but  having  dealt  with  them  long  and  bitter- 
ly, she  knew  that  in  money  matters  she  must  give 
them  the  benefit  of  all  her  ingenuity.  For  the  last 
and  precious  dime,  she  had  discovered  a  brand-new 
hiding-place. 

The  cook  stove  sat  in  the  darkest  and  most  re- 
mote corner  of  the  kitchen,  and  where  the  chimney 
fitted  into  the  wall,  it  was  protected  by  a  small  zinc 
plate.  This  zinc  plate  protruded  barely  an  inch, 
but  that  inch  was  quite  sufficient  for  coins  the 
size  of  Connie's,  and  there,  high  and  secure  in  the 
shadowy  corner,  lay  Connie's  dime.  Now  that  she 
had  decided  to  spend  it,  she  wanted  it  before  her 
eyes, — for  ten  cents  in  sight  buys  much  more  than 
ten  cents  in  memory.  She  went  into  the  kitchen 
cautiously,  careful  of  her  white  canvas  shoes,  and 
put  a  chair  beside  the  stove.  She  had  discovered 
that  the  dishpan  turned  upside  down  on  the  chair, 


THE  CHAPERON  15 

gave  her  sufficient  height  to  reach  her  novel  bank- 
ing place.  The  preparation  was  soon  accomplished, 
and  neatly,  for  Connie  was  an  orderly  child, 
and  loved  cleanliness  even  on  occasions  less  demand- 
ing than  this. 

But  alas  for  Connie's  calculations !— Carol  was 
born  for  higher  things  than  dish  washing,  and 
she  had  splashed  soap-suds  on  the  table.  The  pan 
had  been  set  among  them — and  then,  neatly  wiped 
on  the  inside,  it  had  been  hung  up  behind  the  table, 
— with  the  suds  on  the  bottom.  And  it  was  upon 
this  same  dishpan  that  Connie  climbed  so  carefully 
in  search  of  her  darling  dime. 

The  result  was  certain.  As  she  slowly  and 
breathlessly  raised  herself  on  tiptoe,  steadying  her- 
self with  the  tips  of  her  fingers  lightly  touching  the 
stove-pipe,  her  foot  moved  treacherously  into  the 
soapy  area,  and  slipped.  Connie  screamed,  caught 
desperately  at  the  pipe,  and  fell  to  the  floor  in  a 
sickening  jumble  of  stove-pipe,  dishpan  and  soot 
beyond  her  wildest  fancies!  Her  cries  brought  her 
sisters  flying,  and  the  sight  of  the  blackened  kitchen, 
and  the  unfortunate  child  in  the  midst  of  disaster, 
banished  from  their  minds  all  memory  of  the  coming 


1 6  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

chaperon,  of  Prudence's  warning  words : — Connie 
was  in  trouble.  With  sisterly  affection  they  res- 
cued her,. and  did  not  hear  the  ringing  of  the  bell. 
They  brushed  her,  they  shook  her,  they  kissed  her, 
they  all  but  wept  over  her.  And  when  Prudence  and 
her  father,  with  Aunt  Grace  in  tow,  despaired  of 
gaining  entrance  at  the  hands  of  the  girls,  came  in 
unannounced,  it  was  a  sorry  scene  that  greeted 
them.  Fairy  and  the  twins  were  only  less 
sooty  than  Connie  and  the  kitchen.  The  stove-pipe 
lay  about  them  with  that  insufferable  insolence 
known  only  to  fallen  stove-pipe.  And  Connie  wept 
loudly,  her  tears  making  hideous  trails  upon  her 
blackened  face. 

"I  might  have  known  it,"  Prudence  thought,  with 
sorrow.  But  her  motherly  pride  vanished  before 
her  motherly  solicitude,  and  Connie  was  soon  quiet- 
ed by  her  tender  ministrations. 

"We  love  you,  Aunt  Grace,"  cried  Carol  earnest- 
ly, "but  we  can't  kiss  you." 

Mr.  Starr  anxiously  scanned  the  surface  of 
the  kitchen  table  with  an  eye  to  future  spots  on  the 
new  suit,  and  then  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  it  and 


THE  CHAPERON  17 

laughed  as  only  a  man  of  young  heart  and  old  ex- 
perience can  laugh! 

"Disgraced  again,"  he  said.  "Prudence  said  we 
make  a  mistake  in  not  taking  you  all  to  the  sta- 
tion where  we  could  watch  you  every  minute.  Grace, 
think  well  before  you  take  the  plunge.  Do  you 
dare  cast  in  your  fortunes  with  a  parsonage  bunch 
that  revels  in  misfortune?  Can  you  take  the  re- 
sponsibility of  rearing  a  family  that  knows  trouble 
only?  This  is  your  last  chance.  Weigh  well  your 
words." 

The  twins  squirmed  uncomfortably.  True,  she 
was  their  aunt,  and  knew  many  things  about  them. 
But  they  did  think  it  was  almost  bad  form  for  their 
father  to  emphasize  their  failings  in  the  presence  of 
any  one  outside  the  family. 

Fairy  pursed  up  her  lips,  puffing  vainly  at  the 
soot  that  had  settled  upon  her  face.  Then  she 
laughed.  "Very  true,  Aunt  Grace,"  she  said.  "We 
admit  that  we're  a  luckless  family.  But  we're  ex- 
pecting, with  you  to  help  us,  to  do  much  better. 
You  see,  we've  never  had  half  a  chance  so  far,  with 
only  father  behind  i«." 


18  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

The  twins  revived  at  this,  and  joined  in  the 
laughter  their  father  led  against  himself. 

Later  in  the  day  Prudence  drew  her  aunt  to  one 
side  and  asked  softly,  "Was  it  much  of  a  shock  to 
you,  Aunt  Grace?  The  family  drowned  in  soot  to 
welcome  you  ?  I'm  sure  you  expected  to  find  every- 
thing trim  and  fresh  and  orderly.  Was  it  a  bitter 
disappointment  ?" 

Aunt  Grace  smiled  brightly.  "Why,  no,  Pru- 
dence," she  said  in  her  slow  even  voice.  "I  really 
expected  something  to  be  wrong !  I'd  have  been  dis- 
appointed if  everything  had  gone  just  right  1" 


CHAPTER  II 

SCIENCE    AND    HEALTH 

AFTER  ALL,  the  advent  of  a  chaperon  made 
surprisingly  little  difference  in  the  life  of  the 
parsonage  family,  but  what  change  there  was, 
was  all  to  the  good.  Their  aunt  assumed  no  active 
directorate  over  household  matters.  She  just  slipped 
in,  happily,  unobtrusively,  helpfully.  She  was  a 
gentle  woman,  smiling  much,  saying  little.  Indeed, 
her  untalkativeness  soon  became  a  matter  of  great 
merriment  among  the  lively  girls. 

"A  splendid  deaf  and  dumb  person  was  lost  to 
the  world  in  you,  Aunt  Grace,"  Carol  assured  her 
warmly.  "I  never  saw  a  woman  who  could  say  so 
much  in  smiles,  and  be  so  expressive  without 
words." 

Fairy  said,  "She  carries  on  a  prolonged  discus- 
sion, and  argues  and  orates,  without  saying  a 
word." 


20  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

The  members  of  the  Ladies'  Aid,  who  hastened 
to  call,  said,  "She  is  perfectly  charming — such  a  fine 
conversationalist !" 

She  was  always  attractively  dressed,  always  self- 
possessed,  always  friendly,  always  good-natured, 
and  the  girls  found  her  presence  only  pleasing. 
She  relieved  Prudence,  admired  Fairy,  laughed  at 
the  twins,  adored  Connie.  Between  her  and  Mr. 
Starr  there  was  a  frank  camaraderie,  charming,  but 
seldom  found  between  brothers-  and  sisters-in-law. 

"Of  course,  Aunt  Grace,"  Prudence  told  her 
sweetly,  "we  aren't  going  to  be  selfish  with  you. 
We  don't  expect  you  to  bury  yourself  in  the  par- 
sonage. Whenever  you  want  to  trip  away  for  a 
while,  you  must  feel  free  to  go.  We  don't  intend 
to  monopolize  you,  however  much  we  want  to  do 
so.  Whenever  you  want  to  go,  you  must  go." 

"I  shan't  want  to  go,"  said  Aunt  Grace  quickly. 

"Not  right  away,  of  course,"  Prudence  agreed. 
"But  you'll  find  our  liveliness  tiring.  Whenever 
you  do  want  to  go — " 

"I  don't  think  I  shall  want  to  go  at  all,"  she  an- 
swered. "I  like  it  here.  I — I  like  liveliness." 

Then  Prudence  kissed  her  gratefully. 


SCIENCE  AND  HEALTH  21 

For  several  weeks  after  her  initiation  in  the  par- 
sonage, life  rolled  along  sweetly  and  serenely.  There 
were  only  the  minor,  unavoidable  mishaps  and  dis- 
ciplinary measures  common  to  the  life  of  any  fam- 
ily. Of  course,  there  were  frequent,  stirring  verbal 
skirmishes  between  Fairy  and  the  twins,  and  be- 
tween the  twins  and  Connie.  But  these  did  not  dis- 
turb their  aunt.  She  leaned  back  in  her  chair,  or 
among  the  cushions,  listening  gravely,  but  with  eyea 
that  always  smiled. 

Then  came  a  curious  lull. 

For  ten  entire  and  successive  days  the  twins 
Had  lived  blameless  lives.  Their  voices  rang  out 
gladly  and  sweetly.  They  treated  Connie  with  a 

v 

sisterly  tenderness  and  gentleness  quite  out  of  ac- 
cord with  their  usual  drastic  discipline.  They  obeyed 
the  word  of  Prudence  with  a  cheerful  readiness  that 
;was  startlingly  cherubimic.  The  most  distasteful 
of  orders  called  forth  nothing  stronger  than  a 
bright,  "Yes,  Prudence."  They  no  longer  develop- 
ed dangerous  symptoms  of  physical  disablement  at 
times  of  unpleasant  duties.  Their  devotion  to  the 
cause  of  health  was  beautiful.  Not  an  ache  dis- 
turbed them.  Not  a  pain  suggested  a  substitute. 


22  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

Prudence  watched  them  with  painful  solicitude. 
Her  years  of  mothering  had  given  her  an  almost 
supernatural  intuition  as  to  causes,  and  effects. 

On  Wednesday  morning,  Mr.  Starr  bade  his  fam- 
ily good-by  and  set  out  on  a  tour  of  Epworth 
League  conventions.  He  was  to  be  away  from  home 
until  the  end  of  the  following  week.  A  prospective 
Presbyterian  theologian  had  been  selected  from  the 
college  to  fill  his  pulpit  on  the  Sabbath,  and  the 
girls,  with  their  aunt,  faced  an  unusually  long  period 
of  running  the  parsonage  to  suit  themselves. 

At  ten  o'clock  the  train  carried  their  father  off 
in  the  direction  of  Burlington,  and  at  eleven  o'clock 
the  twins  returned  to  the  parsonage.  They  had 
given  him  a  daughterly  send-off  at  the  station,  and 
then  gone  to  the  library  for  books.  Prudence,  Fairy 
and  Aunt  Grace  sat  sewing  on  the  side  porch  as  they 
cut  across  the  parsonage  lawn,  their  feet  crinkling 
pleasantly  through  the  drift  of  autumn  leaves  the 
wind  had  piled  beneath  the  trees. 

"We're  out  of  potatoes,  twins,"  said  Prudence, 
as  they  drew  near.  "You'll  have  to  dig  some  Before 
dinner." 


SCIENCE  AND  HEALTH  23 

For  one  instant  their  complacent  features  clouded. 
Prudence  looked  up  expectantly,  sure  of  a  break  in 
their  serene  placidity. 

One  doubtful  second,  then — 

"Certainly,  Prudence,"  said  Carol  brightly. 

And  Lark  added  genially,  "We'd  better  fill  the 
box,  I  guess-r-so  we'll  have  enough  for  the  rest  of 
the  week." 

And  singing  a  light  but  unharmonic  snatch  of 
song,  the  twins  went  in  search  of  basket  and  hoe. 

The  twins  were  not  musical.  They  only  sang 
from  principle,  to  emphasize  their  light-heartedness 
when  it  needed  special  impressing. 

Prudence's  brows  knitted  in  anxious  frowns,  and 
she  sighed  a  few  times. 

"What  is  the  matter,  Prue?  You  look  like  a 
rainy  Christmas,"  said  Fairy. 

"It's  the  twins,"  was  the  mournful  answer. 

"The  twins!"  ejaculated  Fairy.  "Why,  they've 
acted  like  angels  lately." 

Even  Aunt  Grace  lifted  mildly  inquiring  eye- 
brows. 

"That's  it!— That's  just  if.    When  the  twins  act 


24  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

like  angels  I  get  uneasy  right  away.  The  better 
they  act,  the  more  suspicious  I  feel." 

"What  have  they  been  doing?" 

"Nothing!  Not  a  thing!  That's  why  I'm  wor- 
ried. It  must  be  something  terrible !" 

Fairy  laughed  and  returned  to  her  embroidery. 
Aunt  Grace  smiled,  and  began  plying  her  needles 
once  more.  But  Prudence  still  looked  troubled,  and 
sighed  often. 

There  was  no  apparent  ground  for  her  alarm. 
The  twins  came  back  with  the  potatoes,  peeled 
some  for  luncheon,  and  set  the  table,  their  faces 
still  bright  and  smiling.  Prudence's  eyes,  often 
fastened  upon  their  angelic  countenances,  grew  more 
and  more  troubled. 

In  the  afternoon,  they  joined  the  little  circle  on 
the  porch,  but  not  to  sew.  They  took  a  book,  and 
lay  down  on  a  rug  with  the  book  before  them,  read- 
ing together.  Evidently  they  were  all  absorbed. 
An  hour  passed,  two  hours,  three.  At  times  Carol 
pointed  to  a  line,  and  said  in  a  low  voice,  "That's 
good,  isn't  it?"  And  Lark  would  answer,  "Dandy! 
• — Have  you  read  this?" 

Prudence,  in  spite  of  her  devotion  to  the  em- 


SCIENCE  AND  HEALTH  25 

broidering  of  large  S's  on  assorted  pieces  of  linen, 
never  forgot  the  twins  for  a  moment. 

"What  are  you  reading?"  she  asked  at  last  aim- 
lessly, her  only  desire  -to  be  reassured  by  the  sound 
of  their  voices. 

There  was  an  almost  imperceptible  pause.  Then 
Carol  answered, — her  chin  was  in  her  palms  which 
may  have  accounted  for  the  mumbling  of  the  words. 

"Scianceanelth." 

"What?" 

Another  pause,  a  little  more  perceptible  this  time. 
"Science  and  Health"  Carol  said  at  last,  quite  dis- 
tinctly. 

"Science  and  Health"  Prudence  repeated,  in  a 
puzzled  tone.  "Is  it  a  doctor  book?" 

"Why — something  of  the  sort, — yes,"  said  Carol 
dubiously. 

"Science  and  Health?  Science  and  Health" 
mused  Fairy.  "You  don't  mean  that  Christian  Sci- 
ence book,  do  you?  You  know  what  I  mean,  Pru- 
dence— Mary  Baker  Eddy's  book — Science  and 
Health, — that's  the  name  of  it.  That's  not  what 
you  twins  are  devouring  so  ravenously,  is  it?" 

Carol  answered  with  manifest  reluctance,  glanc- 


26  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

ing  nervously  at  Prudence,  "Y-yes, — that's  what 
it  is." 

Ominous  silence  greeted  this  admission.  A  slow 
red  flush  mantled  the  twins'  cheeks.  Aunt  Grace's 
eyes  twinkled  a  little,  although  her  face  was  grave. 
Fairy  looked  surprised.  Prudence  looked  dum- 
founded.  .When  she  spoke,  her  words  gave  no  sign 
of  the  cataclysmic  struggle  through  which  she  had 
passed. 

"What  are  you  reading  that  for  ?" 

"Why — it's  very  interesting,"  explained  Lark, 
coming  to  Carol's  rescue.  Carol  was  very  good  at 
meeting  investigation,  but  when  it  came  to  pro- 
longed explanation,  Lark  stood  preeminent.  "Of 
course,  we  don't  believe  it — yet.  But  there  are  some 
good  things  in  it.  Part  of  it  is  very  beautiful.  We 
don't  just  understand  it, — it's  very  deep.  But  some 
of  the  ideas  are  very  fine,  and — er — uplifting,  you 
know." 

Prudence  looked  most  miserable.  "But — twins,  do 
you  think — minister's  daughters  ought  to  read — 
things  like  that?" 

"Why,  Prudence,  I  think  minister's  daughters 
ought  to  be  well-informed  on  every  subject,"  de- 


SCIENCE  AND  HEALTH  27 

clared  Lark  conscientiously.  "How  can  we  be  an 
influence  if  we  don't  know  anything  about  things? 
—And  I  tell  you  what  it  is,  Prue,  I  don't  think  it's 
right  for  all  of  us  church  people  to  stand  back  and 
knock  Christian  Science  when  we  don't  know  any- 
thing about  it.  It's  narrow-minded,  that's  what  it 
is.  It's  downright  un-Christian.  When  you  get 
into  the  book  you  will  find  it  just  full  of  fine  in- 
spiring thoughts — something  like  the  Bible, — only — 
er — and  very  good,  you  know." 

Prudence  looked  at  Fairy  and  her  aunt  in  help- 
less dismay.  This  was  something  entirely  new  in 
her  experience  of  rearing  a  family. 

"I — I  don't  think  you  ought  to  read  it,"  she 
said  slowly.  "But  at  the  same  time — " 

"Of  course,  if  you  command  us  not  to  read  it, 
we  won't,"  said  Carol  generously. 

"Yes.  We've  already  learned  quite  a  lot  about 
it,"  amended  Lark,  with  something  of  warning  in 
her  tone. 

"What  do  you  think  about  it,  Aunt  Grace?" 

"Why, — I  don't  know,  Prudence.  You  know 
more  about  rearing  twins  than  I  do." 

Prudence  at  that  moment  felt  that  she  knew  very 


28  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

little  about  it,  indeed.  She  turned  to  Fairy.  There 
was  a  strange  intentness  in  Fairy's  fine  eyes  as  she 
studied  the  twins  on  the  floor  at  her  feet. 

"You  aren't  thinking  of  turning  Christian  Sci- 
entists, yourselves,  are  you?"  asked  Prudence  rather 
humbly. 

"Oh,  of  course,  we  aren't  Scientists,  Prudence," 
was  the  quick  denial.  "We  don't  know  anything 
about  it  yet,  really.  But  there  are  lots  of  very  help- 
ful things  in  it,  and — people  talk  about  it  so  much, 
and — they  have  made  such  wonderful  cures,  you 
know,  and — we'd  thought  we'd  just  study  up  a 
little." 

"You  take  the  book  and  read  it  yourself,  Prue," 
urged  Carol  hospitably.  "You'll  see  what  we 
mean." 

Prudence  drew  back  quickly  as  though  the  book 
would  sear  her  fingers.  She  looked  very  forlorn. 
She  realized  that  it  would  be  bad  policy  to  forbid  the 
twins  to  read  it.  On  the  other  hand,  she  realized 
equally  strongly  that  it  was  certainly  unwise  to  al- 
low its  doctrines  to  take  root  in  the  minds  of  par- 
sonage daughters.  If  only  her  father  were  at  home, 


SCIENCE  AND  HEALTH  29 

—ten  days  between  herself  and  the  lifting  of  re- 
sponsibility ! 

"When  father  comes  home — "  she  began.  And 
then  suddenly  Fairy  spoke. 

"I  think  the  twins  are  right,"  she  said  emphatical- 
ly, and  the  twins  looked  at  her  with  a  surprised 
anxiety  that  mated  Prudence's  own.  "It  would  be 
very  narrow-minded  of  us  to  refuse  to  look  into 
a  subject  as  important  as  this.  Let  them  go  on  and 
study  it;  we  can  decide  things  later." 

Prudence  looked  very  doubtful,  but  a  warning 
movement  of  Fairy's  left  eyelash — the  side  re- 
moved from  the  twins — comforted  her. 

"Well—"  she  said. 

"Of  course,  Prudence,  we  know  it  would  nearly 
break  father's  heart  for  us  to  go  back  on  our  own 
church, — but  don't  you  think  if  folks  become  truly 
convinced  that  Christian  Science  is  the  true  and 
good  religion,  they  ought  to  stand  by  it  and  suffer, — 
just  like  the  martyrs  of  old?"  suggested  Lark, — • 
and  the  suggestion  brought  the  doubt-clouds  thick 
about  Prudence's  head  once  more. 

"We  may  not  be  convinced,  of  course,"  added 


30 

Carol,  "but  there  is  something  rather — assuring — 
about  it." 

"Oh,  twins,"  Prudence  cried  earnestly,  but 
stopped  as  she  caught  again  the  slight  suggestive 
movement  of  Fairy's  left  eyelash. 

"Well,  let  it  go  for  this  afternoon,"  she  said,  her 
eyes  intent  on  Fairy's  face.  "I  must  think  it  over." 

The  twins,  with  apparent  relish,  returned  to  their 
perusal  of  the  book. 

Fairy  rose  almost  immediately  and  went  into  the 
house,  coming  back  a  moment  later  with  her  hat 
and  gloves. 

"I'm  going  for  a  stroll,  Prue,"  she  said.  "I'll 
be  back  in  time  for  supper." 

Prudence  gazed  yearningly  after  her  departing 
back.  She  felt  a  great  need  of  help  in  this  crisis, 
and  Fairy's  nonchalance  was  sometimes  very  sooth- 
ing. Aunt  Grace  was  a  darling,  of  course,  but  she 
Jiad  long  ago  disclaimed  all  responsibility  for  the 
rearing  of  the  twins. 

It  was  two  hours  later  when  Fairy  came  back. 
Prudence  was  alone  on  the  porch. 

"Where  are  the  twins?"  asked  Fairy  softly. 

"Up-stairs,"  was  the  whispered  reply.  "Well  ?" 


SCIENCE  AND  HEALTH  31 

Then  Fairy  spoke  more  loudly,  confident  that  the 
twins,  in  their  up-stairs  room,  could  hear  every  word 
she  said.  "Come  up-stairs,  Prue.  I  want  to  talk 
this  over  with  you  alone."  And  then  she  whis- 
pered, "Now,  you  just  take  your  cue  from  me,  and 
do  as  I  say.  The  little  sinners!  We'll  teach  them 
to  be  so  funny !" 

In  their  own  room  she  carefully  closed  the  door 
and  smiled,  as  she  noted  a  creaking  of  the  closet 
door  on  the  twins'  side  of  the  wall.  Eavesdropping 
was  not  included  among  the  cardinal  sins  in  the 
twins'  private  decalogue,  when  the  conversation  con- 
cerned themselves. 

"Now,  Prudence,"  Fairy  began,  speaking  with  an 
appearance  of  softness,  though  she  took  great  pains 
to  turn  her  face  toward  the  twins'  room,  and  enun- 
ciated very  clearly  indeed.  "I  know  this  will  hurt 
you,  as  it  does  me,  but  we've  got  to  face  it  fairly.  If 
the  twins  are  convinced  that  Christian  Science  is  the 
right  kind  of  religion,  we  can't  stand  in  their  way. 
It  might  turn  them  from  all  religion  and  make  them 
infidels  or  atheists,  or  something  worse.  Any  re- 
ligion is  better  than  none.  I've  been  reading  up  a 
little  myself  this  afternoon,  and  there  are  some 


32  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

good  points  in  Christian  Science.  Of  course,  for 
our  sakes  and  father's,  the  twins  will  be  generous 
and  deny  that  they  are  Scientists.  But  at  heart, 
they  are.  I  saw  it  this  afternoon.  And  you  and 
I,  Prudence,  must  stand  together  and  back  them  up. 
They'll  have  to  leave  the  Methodist  church.  It  may 
break  our  hearts,  and  father's,  too,  but  we  can't 
wrong  our  little  sisters  just  for  our  personal  pride 
and  pleasure  in  them.  I  think  we'll  have  them  go 
before  the  deacons  next  Sunday  while  father  is 
gone — then  he  will  be  spared  the  pain  of  it.  I'll 
speak  to  Mr.  Lauren  about  it  to-morrow.  /  We  must 
make  it  as  easy  for  them  as  we  can.  They'll 
probably  dismiss  them — I  don't  suppose  they'll  give 
them  letters.  But  it  must  be  all  over  before  papa 
comes  back." 

Then  she  hissed  in  Prudence's  ear,  "Now  cry." 
Prudence  obediently  began  sniffing  and  gulping, 
and  Fairy  rushed  to  her  and  threw  her  arms  about 
her,  sobbing  in  heart-broken  accents,  "There,  there, 
Prue,  I  know — I  felt  just  the  same  about  it.  But 
we  can't  stand  between  the  twins  and  what  they 
think  is  right.  We  daren't  have  that  on  our  con- 
sciences." 


SCIENCE  AND  HEALTH  33 

The  two  wept  together,  encouraged  by  the  death- 
like stillness  in  the  closet  on  the  other  side  of  the 
wall. 

Then  Fairy  said,  more  calmly,  though  still  sob- 
bing occasionally,  "For  our  sakes,  they'll  try  to 
deny  it.  But  we  can't  let  the  little  darlings  sacrifice 
themselves.  They've  got  to  have  a  chance  to  try 
their  new  belief.  We'll  just  be  firm  and  insist  .that 
they  stand  on  their  rights.  We  won't  mention  it  to 
them  for  a  day  or  two — we'll  fix  it  up  with  the 
elders  first.  And  we  must  surely  get  it  over  by  Sun- 
day. Poor  old  father — and  how  he  loves — "  Fairy 
indulged  in  a  clever  and  especially  artistic  bit  of 
weeping.  Then  she  regained  control  of  her  feel- 
ings by  an  audible  effort.  "But  it  has  its  good 
points,  Prue.  Haven't  you  noticed  how  sweet  and 
sunny  and  dear  the  twins  have  been  lately?  It  was 
Science  and  Health  working  in  them.  Oh,  Prudence 
dear,  don't  cry  so." 

Prudence  caught  her  cue  again  and  began  weep- 
ing afresh.  They  soothed  and  caressed  and 
comforted  each  other  for  a  while,  and  then  went 
down-stairs  to  finish  getting  supper. 

In  the  meantime,  the  shocked  and  horrified  twins 


34  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

in  the  closet  of  their  own  room,  were  clutching  each 
other  with  passionate  intensity.  Little  nervous 
chills  set  them  aquiver,  their  hands  were  cold,  their 
faces  throbbing  hot.  When  their  sisters  had  gone 
down-stairs,  they  stared  at  each  other  in  agony. 

"They — they  wo- won't  p-p-put  us  out  of  the  ch- 
ch-church,"  gasped  Carol. 

"They  will,"  stammered  Lark.  "You  know  what 
Prudence  is !  She'd  put  the  whole  church  out  if  she 
thought  it  would  do  us  any  good." 

"Pa-p-pa'll — papa'll — "  began  Carol,  her  teeth 
chattering. 

"They'll  do  it  before  he  gets  back."  Then  with 
sudden  reproach  she  cried,  "Oh,  Carol,  I  told  you 
it  was  wicked  to  joke  about  religion." 

This  unexpected  reproach  on  the  part  of  her  twin 
brought  Carol  back  to  earth.  "Christian  Science 
isn't  religion,"  she  declared.  "It's  not  even  good 
sense,  as  far's  I  can  make  out.  I  didn't  read  a  word 
of  it,  did  you  ? — I — I  just  thought  it  would  be  such  a 
good  joke  on  Prudence — with  father  out  of  town." 

The  good  joke  was  anything  but  funny  now. 

"They  can't  make  us  be  Scientists  if  we  don't 
want  to,"  protested  Lark.  "They  can't.  Why,  I 


SCIENCE  AND  HEALTH  35 

wouldn't  be  anything  but  a  Methodist  for  anything 
on  earth.  I'd  die  first." 

"You  can't  die  if  you're  a  Scientist — anyhow,  you 
oughtn't  to.  Millie  Mains  told  me — " 

"It's  a  punishment  on  us  for  even  looking  at  the 
book — good  Methodists  like  we  are.  I'll  burn  it. 
That's  what  I'll  do." 

"You'll  have  to  pay  for  it  at  the  library  if  you 
do,"  cautioned  frugal  Carol. 

"Well,  we'll  just  go  and  tell  Prudence  it  was  a 
joke, — Prudence  is  always  reasonable.  She  won't — " 

"She'll  punish  us,  and — it'll  be  such  a  joke  on 
us,  Larkie.  Even  Connie'll  laugh." 

They  squirmed  together,  wretchedly,  at  that. 

"We'll  tell  them  we  have  decided  it  is  false." 

"They  said  we'd  probably  do  that  for  their 
sakes." 

"It — it  was  a  good  joke  while  it  lasted,"  said 
Carol,  with  a  very  faint  shadow  of  a  smile.  "Don't 
you  remember  how  Prudence  gasped?  She  kept 
her  mouth  open  for  five  minutes !" 

"It's  still  a  joke,"  atfded  Lark  gloomily,  "but 
it's  on  us." 

"They  can't  put  us  out  of  the  church !" 


36  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

"I  don't  know.  You  know  we  Methodists  are 
pretty  set!  Like  as  not  they'll  say  we'd  be  a  bad 
influence  among  the  members." 

"Twins!" 

The  call  outside  their  door  sounded  like  the  trump 
of  doom  to  the  conscience-smitten  twins,  and  they 
clutched  each  other,  startled,  crying  out.  Then, 
sheepishly,  they  stepped  out  of  the  closet  to  find 
Fairy  regarding  them  quizzically  from  the  doorway. 
She  repressed  a  smile  with  difficulty,  as  she  said 
quietly: 

"I  was  just  talking  to  Mrs.  Mains  over  the 
phone.  She's  going  to  a  Christian  Science  lecture 
to-night,  and  she  said  she  wished  I  wasn't  a  min- 
ister's daughter  and  she'd  ask  me  to  go  along.  I 
told  her  I  didn't  care  to,  but  said  you  twins  would 
enjoy  it.  She'll  be  here  in  the  car  for  you  at  seven 
forty-five." 

"I  won't  go/'  cried  Carol.  "I  won't  go  near  their 
old  church." 

"You  won't  go."  Fairy  was  astonished.  "Why — > 
I  told  her  you  would  be  glad  to  go." 

"I  won't,"  repeated  Carol,  with  nervous  passion. 
"I  will  not.  You  can't  make  me," 


SCIENCE  AND  HEALTH  37 

Lark  shook  her  head  in  corroborative  denial. 

• 

"Well,  that's  queer."  Fairy  frowned,  then  she 
smiled. 

Suddenly,  to  the  tempest-tossed  and  troubled 
twins,  the  tall  splendid  Fairy  seemed  a  haven  of 
refuge.  Her  eyes  were  very  kind.  Her  smile  was 
sweet.  And  with  a  cry  of  relief,  and  shame,  and 
fear,  the  twins  plunged  upon  her  and  told  their  lit- 
tle tale. 

"You  punish  us  this  time,  Fairy,"  begged  Carol. 
"We — we  don't  want  the  rest  of  the  family  to 
know.  We'll  take  any  kind  of  punishment,  but  keep 
it  dark,  won't  you?  Prudence  will  soon  forget, 
she's  so  awfully  full  of  Jerry  these  days." 

"I'll  talk  it  over  with  Prudence,"  said  Fairy.  "But 
— I  think  we'll  have  to  tell  the  family." 

Lark  moved  her  feet  restlessly.  "Well,  you 
needn't  tell  Connie,"  she  said.  "Having  the  laugh 
come  back  on  us  is  the  very  meanest  kind  of  a 
punishment." 

Fairy  looked  at  them  a  moment,  wondering  if, 
indeed,  their  punishment  had  been  sufficient. 

"Well,  little  twins,"  she  said,  "I  guess  I  will  take 
charge  of  this  myself.  Here  is  your  punishment." 


38  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

She  stood  up  again,  and  looked  down  at  them  with 
sparkling  eyes  as  they  gazed  at  her  expectantly. 

"We  caught  on  that  it  was  a  joke.  We  knew  you 
were  listening  in  the  closet.  And  Prudence  and  I 
acted  our  little  parts  to  give  you  one  good  scare. 
Who's  the  laugh  on  now?  Are  we  square?  Sup- 
per's ready."  And  Fairy  ran  down-stairs,  laughing, 
followed  by  two  entirely  abashed  and  humbled 
twins. 


CHAPTER  III 

A    GIFT    FROM    HEAVEN 

THE  first  of  April  in  the  Mount  Mark  parson- 
age was  a  time  of  trial  and  tribulation,  fre- 
quently to  the  extent  of  weeping  and  gnashing  of 
teeth.  The  twins  were  no  respecters  of  persons,  and 
feeling  that  the  first  of  April  rendered  all  things 
justifiable  to  all  men,  they  made  life  as  burdensome 
to  their  father  as  to  Connie,  and  Fairy  and  Pru- 
dence lived  in  a  state  of  perpetual  anguish  until  the 
twins  fell  asleep  at  night  well  satisfied  but  worn 
out  with  the  day's  activities.  The  twins  were  bor- 
dering closely  to  the  first  stage  of  grown-up  wom- 
anhood, but  on  the  first  of  April  they  swore  they 
would  always  be  young!  The  tricks  were  more 
dignified,  more  carefully  planned  and  scientifically 
executed  than  in  the  days  of  their  rollicking  girl- 
hood,— but  they  were  all  the  more  heart-breaking 
on  that  account. 


40  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

The  week  before  the  first  was  spent  by  Connie 
in  a  vain  effort  to  ferret  out  their  plans  in  order 
that  fore-knowledge  might  suggest  a  sufficient  safe- 
guard. The  twins,  however,  were  too  clever  to 
permit  this,  and  their  bloody  schemes  were  wrapped 
in  mystery  and  buried  in  secrecy.  On  the  thirty- 
first  of  March,  Connie  labored  like  a  plumber  would 
if  working  by  the  job.  She  painstakingly  hid  from 
sight  all  her  cherished  possessions.'  The  twins  were 
in  the  barn,  presumably  deep  in  plots.  Aunt  Grace 
was  at  the  Ladies'  Aid.  So  when  Fairy  came  in, 
about  four  in  the  afternoon,  there  was  only  Pru- 
dence to  note  the  vengeful  glitter  in  her  fine  clear 
eyes.  And  Prudence  was  so  intent  upon  feather- 
stitching  the  hems  of  pink-checked  dish  towels,  that 
she  did  not  observe  it. 

"Where's  papa?"  Fairy  asked. 

"Up-stairs." 

"Where  are  the  twins?'* 

"In  the  barn,  getting  ready  for  THE  DAY." 

Fairy  smiled  delightfully  and  skipped  eagerly 
up  the  stairs.  She  was  closeted  with  her  father  for 
some  time,  and  came  out  of  his  room  at  last  with 
a  small  coin  carefully  concealed  in  the  corner  of 


A  GIFT  FROM  HEAVEN  41 

her  handkerchief.  She  did  not  remove  her  hat, 
but  set  briskly  out  toward  town  again. 

Prudence,  startled  out  of  her  feather-stitching, 
followed  her  to  the  door.  "Why,  Fairy,"  she  called. 
"Are  you  going  out  again?'* 

Fairy  threw  out  her  hands.  "So  it  seems.  An 
errand  for  papa."  She  lifted  her  brows  and  pursed 
up  her  lips,  and  the  wicked  joy  in  her  face  pierced 
the  mantle  of  Prudence's  absorption  again. 

"What's  up?"  she  questioned  curiously,  follow- 
ing her  sister  down  the  steps. 

Fairy  looked  about  hurriedly,  and  then  whispered 
a  few  words  of  explanation.  Prudence's  look 
changed  to  one  of  unnaturally  spiteful  glee. 

"Good!  Fine!  Serves  'em  right!  You'd  better 
hurry." 

"Tell  Aunt  Grace,  will  you?  But  3on't  let  Con- 
nie in  until  morning.  She'd  give  it  away." 

At  supper-time  Fairy  returned,  and  the  twins, 
their  eyes  bright  with  the  unholy  light  of  mischief, 
never  looked  at  her.  They  sometimes  looked 
heavenward  with  a  sublime  contentment  that  drove 
Connie  nearly  frantic.  Occasionally  they  uttered 
cryptic  words  about  the  morrow, — an'd  the  older 


4*  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

members  of  the  family  smiled  pleasantly,  but  Con- 
nie shuddered.  She  remembered  so  many  April 
Fool's  Days. 

The  family  usually  clung  together  on  occasions 
of  this  kind,  feeling  there  was  safety  and  sympathy 
in  numbers — as  so  many  cowards  have  felt  for  lo, 
these  many  years.  And  thus  it  happened  that  they 
were  all  in  the  dining-room  when  their  father  ap- 
peared at  the  door.  He  had  his  hands  behind  him 
suggestively. 

"Twins,"  he  said,  without  preamble,  "what  do 
you  want  more  than  anything  else?" 

"Silk  stockings,"  was  the  prompt  and  unanimous 
answer. 

He  laughed.  "Good  guess,  wasn't  it?"  !And 
tossed  into  their  eager  hands  two  slender  boxes, 
nicely  wrapped.  The  others  gathered  about  them 
with  smiling  eyes  as  the  twins  tremulously  tore  off 
the  wrappings. 

"A.  Phoole's  Pure  Silk  Thread  Hose,— Guaran- 
teed !"  This  they  read  'from  the  box — neat  golden 
lettering.  It  was  enough  for  the  twins.  With  cries 
of  perfect  bliss  they  flung  themselves  upon  their 


43 

father,  kissing  him  rapturously  wherever  their  lips 
might  touch. 

"Oh,  papa !"  "Oh,  you  darling!"  And  then,  when 
they  had  some  sort  of  control  of  their  joy,  Lark  said 
solemnly,  "Papa,  it  is  a  gift  from  Heaven  1" 

"Of  course,  we  give  you  the  credit,  papa,"  Carol 
amended  quickly,  "but  the  thought  was  Heaven- 
prompted." 

Fairy  choked  suddenly,  and  her  fit  of  coughing 
interfered  with  the  twins'  gratitude  to  an  all-sug- 
gesting Providence ! 

Carol  twisted  her  box  nervously.  "You  know, 
papa,  it  may  seem  very  childish,  and — silly  to  you, 
but — actually — we  have — well,  prayed  for  silk 
stockings.  We  didn't  honestly  expect  to  get  them, 
though — not  until  we  saved  up  money  enough  to 
get  them  ourselves.  Heaven  is  kinder  to  us  than 
we—" 

"You  can't  understand  such  things,  papa,"  said 
Lark.  "Maybe  you  don't  know  exactly  how — how 
they  feel.  When  we  go  to  Betty  Hill's  we  wear  her 
silk  stockings  and  lie  on  the  bed — and — she  won't 
let  us  walk  in  them,  for  fear  we  may  wear  holes. 


44  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

Every  girl  in  our  class  has  at  least  one  pair, — Betty 
has  three,  but  one  pair's  holey,  and — we  felt  so 
awfully  poorl" 

The  smiles  on  the  family  faces  were  rather  stereo- 
typed by  this  time,  but  the  exulting  twins  did  not 
notice.  Lark  looked  at  Carol  fondly.  Carol  sighed 
at  Lark  blissfully.  Then,  with  one  accord,  they 
lifted  the  covers  from  the  boxes  and  drew  out  the 
shimmering  hose.  Yes, — shimmering — but — they 
shook  them  out  for  inspection!  Their  faces  paled 
a  little. 

"They — they  are  very — "  began  Carol  courage- 
ously. Then  she  stopped. 

The  hose  were  a  fine  tissue-paper  imitation  of 
silk  stockings!  The  "April  Fool,  little  twins,"  on 
the  toes  was  not  necessary  for  their  enlightenment. 
They  looked  at  their  father  with  sad  but  unresent- 
ful  reproach  in  their  swiftly  shadowed  eyes. 

"It — it's  a  good  joke,"  stammered  Carol,  moist- 
ening her  dry  lips  with  her  tongue. 

"It's — one  on  us,"  blurted  Lark  promptly. 

"Ha,  ha,  ha,"  laughed  Carol,  slowly,  dryly,  very 
dully. 

"Yes — ha,  ha,  ha,"  echoed  Lark,  placing  the  bit- 


45 

ter  fruit  carefully  back  in  its  box.  Her  fingers 
actually  trembled. 

"It's  a — swell  joke,  all  right,"  Carol  said,  "we 
see  that  well  enough, — we're  not  stupid,  you  know. 
But  we  did  want  some  silk  stockings  so — awfully 
bad.  But  it's  funny,  ha,  ha,  ha!" 

"A  gift  from  Heaven!"  muttered  Lark,  with 
clenched  teeth.  "Well,  you  got  us  that  time." 

"Come  on,  Lark,  we  must  put  them  sacredly 
away —  Silk  stockings,  you  know,  are  mighty  scarce 
in  a  parsonage, — " 

"Yes,  ha,  ha,  ha,"  and  the  crushed  and  broken 
twins  left  the  room,  with  dignity  in  spite  of  the 
blow. 

The  family  did  not  enjoy  the  joke  on  the  twins. 

Mr.  Starr  looked  at  the  others  with  all  a  man's 
confused  incomprehension  of  a  woman's  notions! 
He  spread  out  his  hands — an  orthodox,  ministerial 
gesture  I 

"Now,  will  some  one  kindly  tell  me  what  there 
is  in  silk  stockings,  to — "  He  shook  his  head  help- 
lessly. "Silk  stockings!  A  gift  from  Heaven!" 
He  smiled,  unmerrily.  "The  poor  little  kids !"  Then 
he  left  the  room. 


46  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

Aunt  Grace  openly  wiped  her  eyes,  smiling  at 
herself  as  she  did  so. 

Fairy  opened  and  closed  her  lips  several  times. 
Then  she  spoke.  "Say,  Prue,  knock  me  down  and 
sit  on  me,  will  you?  Whatever  made  me  think  of 
such  a  stupid  trick  as  that?" 

"Why,  bless  their  little  hearts,"  whispered  Pru- 
dence, sniffing.  "Didn't  they  look  sorry  ?  But  they 
were  so  determined  to  be  game." 

"Prudence,  give  me  my  eight  cents,"  demanded 
Connie.  "I  want  it  right  away." 

"What  do  you  want  it  for?" 

"I'm  going  down  to  Morrow's  and  get  some 
candy.  I  never  saw  a  meaner  trick  in  my  life!  I'm 
surprised  at  papa.  The  twins  only  play  jokes 
for  fun."  And  Connie  stalked  grimly  out  of  the 
parsonage  and  off  toward  town. 

A  more  abashed  and  downcast  pair  of  twins 
probably  never  lived.  They  sat  thoughtfully  in 
their  room,  "A.  Phoole's  Silk  Thread  Hose"  care- 
fully hidden  from  their  hurt  eyes. 

"It  was  a  good  joke,"  Lark  said,  now  and  then. 

"Yes,  very,"  assented  Carol.  "But  silk  stockings, 
Larkie!" 


A  GIFT  FROM  HEAVEN  47 

And  Lark  squirmed  wretchedly.  "A  gift  from 
Heaven,"  she  mourned.  "How  they  must  be 
laughing !" 

But  they  did  not  laugh. 

Connie  came  back  and  shared  her  candy.  They 
thanked  her  courteously  and  invited  her  to  sit  down. 
Then  they  all  ate  candy  and  grieved  together  si- 
lently. They  did  not  speak  of  the  morning's  disas- 
ter, but  the  twins  understood  and  appreciated  the 
tender  sympathy  of  her  attitude,  and  although  they 
said  nothing,  they  looked  at  her  very  kindly  and 
Connie  was  well  content. 

The  morning  passed  drearily.  The  twins  had  lost 
all  relish  for  their  well-planned  tricks,  and  the  oth- 
ers, down-stairs,  found  the  usually  wild  and  hilarious 
day  almost  unbearably  poky.  Prudence's  voice  was 
gentle  as  she  called  them  down  to  dinner,  and  the 
twins,  determined  not  to  show  the  white  feather, 
went  down  at  once  and  took  their  places.  They 
bore  their  trouble  bravely,  but  their  eyes  had  the 
surprised  and  stricken  look,  and  their  faces  were 
nearly  old.  Mr.  Starr  cut  the  blessing  short,  and 
the  dinner  was  eaten  in  silence.  The  twins  tried 
to  start  the  conversation.  They  talked  of  the. 


'48  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

weather  with  passionate  devotion.  They  discussed 
their  studies  with  an  almost  unbelievable  enthusiasm. 
They  even  referred,  with  stiff  smiles,  to  "papa's 
good  joke,"  and  then  laughed  their  dreary  "ha,  ha, 
ha,"  until  their  father  wanted  to  fall  upon  his  knees 
and  beg  forgiveness. 

Connie,  still  solicitous,  helped  them  wash  the 
dishes.  The  others  disappeared.  Fairy  got  her  hat 
and  went  out  without  a  word.  Their  father  fol- 
lowed scarcely  a  block  behind  her.  Aunt  Grace 
sought  all  over  the  house  for  Prudence,  and  finally 
found  her  in  the  attic,  comforting  herself  with  a 
view  of  the  lovely  linens  which  rilled  her  Hope  Box. 

"I'm  going  for  a  walk,"  announced  Aunt  Grace 
briefly. 

"All  right,"  assented  Prudence.  "If  I'm  not 
here  when  you  get  back,  don't  worry.  I'm  going 
for  a  walk  myself." 

Their  work  done  irreproachably,  the  twins  an<} 
Connie  went  to  the  haymow  and  lay  on  the  hay, 
still  silent.  The  twins,  buoyant  though  they  were, 
could  not  so  quickly  recover  from  a  shock  like  this. 
So  intent  were  they  upon  the  shadows  among  the 
,cobwebs  that  they  heard  no  sound  from  below  un- 


A  GIFT  FROM  HEAVEN  49 

til  their  father's  head  appeared  at  the  top  of  the 
ladder. 

"Come  up,"  they  invited  hospitably  but  seri- 
ously. 

He  did  so  at  once,  and  stood  before  them,  his 
face  rather  flushed,  his  manner  a  little  constrained, 
but  looking  rather  satisfied  with  himself  on  the 
whole. 

"Twins,"  he  said,  "I  didn't  know  you  were  so 
crazy  about  silk  stockings.  We  just  thought  it  would 
be  a  good  joke — but  it  was  a  little  too  good.  It  was 
a  boomerang.  I  don't  know  when  I've  felt  so  con- 
temptible. So  I  went  down  and  got  you  some  real 
silk  stockings — a  dollar  and  a  half  a  pair, — and  I'm 
glad  to  clear  my  conscience  so  easily." 

The  twins  blushed.  "It — it  was  a  good  joke, 
papa,"  Carol  assured  him  shyly.  "It  was  a  dandy. 
But — all  the  girls  at  school  have  silk  stockings  for 
best,  and — we've  been  wanting  them — forever.  And 
—honestly,  father,  I  don't  know  when  I've  had 
such  a — such  a  spell  of  indigestion  as  when  I  saw 
those  stockings  were  April  Fool." 

"Indigestion,"  scoffed  Connie,  restored  to  nor- 
mal by  her  father's  handsome  amends. 


50  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

"Yes,  indigestion,"  declared  Lark.  "You  know, 
papa,  that  funny,  hollow,  hungry  feeling — when  you 
get  a  shock.  That's  nervous  indigestion, — we  read 
it  in  a  medicine  ad.  They've  got  pills  for  it.  But 
it  was  a  good  joke.  We  saw  that  right  at  the  start." 

"And  we  didn't  expect  anything  like  this.  It — is 
very  generous  of  you,  papa.  Very !" 

But  he  noticed  that  they  made  no  move  to  un- 
wrap the  box.  It  still  lay  between  them  on  the  hay, 
where  he  had  tossed  it.  Evidently  their  confidence 
in  him  had  been  severely  shattered. 

He  sat  down  and  unwrapped  it  himself.  "They 
are  guaranteed,"  he  explained,  passing  out  the  little 
pink  slips  gravely,  "so  when  they  wear  holes  you 
get  another  pair  for  nothing."  The  twins'  faces  had 
brightened  wonderfully.  "I  will  never  play  that  kind 
of  a  trick  again,  twins,  so  you  needn't  be  suspicious 
of  me.  And  say !  Whenever  you  want  anything  so 
badly  it  makes  you  feel  like  that,  come  and  talk  it 
over.  We'll  manage  some  way.  Of  course,  we're 
always  a  little  hard  up,  but  we  can  generally  scrape 
up  something  extra  from  somewhere.  And  we  will. 
You  mustn't — feel  like  that — about  things.  Just 


A  GIFT  FROM  HEAVEN  51 

tell  me  about  it.  Girls  arc  so — kind  of  funny,  you 
know." 

The  twins  and  Connie  rushed  to  the  house  to  try 
the  "feel"  of  the  first,  adored  silk  stockings.  They 
donned  them,  admired  them,  petted  Connie,  idolized 
their  father,  and  then  removing  them,  tied  them 
carefully  in  clean  white  tissue-paper  and  deposit- 
ed them  in  the  safest  corner  of  the  bottom  drawer  of 
their  dresser.  Then  they  lay  back  on  the  bed,  think- 
ing happily  of  the  next  class  party !  Silk  stockings ! 
Ah! 

"Can't  you  just  imagine  how  we'll  look  in  our 
new  white  dresses,  Lark,  and  our  patent  leather 
pumps, — with  silk  stockings!  I  really  feel  there  is 
nothing  sets  off  a  good  complexion  as  well  as  real 
silk  stockings!" 

They  were  interrupted  in  this  delightful  occupa- 
tion by  the  entrance  of  Fairy.  The  twins  had  quick- 
ly realized  that  the  suggestion  for  their  humiliating 
had  come  from  her,  and  their  hearts  were  sore,  but 
being  good  losers — at  least,  as  good  losers  as  real 
live  folks  can  be — they  wouldn't  have  admitted  it 
for  the  world. 


52  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 


"Come  on  in,  Fairy,"  said  Lark  cordially. 
"Aren't  we  lazy  to-day  ?" 

"Twins,"  said  Fairy,  self-conscious  for  the  first 
time  in  the  twins'  knowledge  of  her,  "I  suppose  you 
know  it  was  I  who  suggested  that  idiotic  little  stock- 
ing stunt.  It  was  awfully  hateful  of  me,  and  so  I 
bought  you  some  real  silk  stockings  with  my  own 
spending  money,  and  here  they  are,  and  you  needn't 
thank  me  for  I  never  could  be  fond  of  myself  again 
until  I  squared  things  with  you." 

The  twins  had  to  admit  that  it  was  really  splen- 
did of  Fairy,  and  they  thanked  her  with  unfeigned 
zeal. 

"But  papa  already  got  us  a  pair,  and  so  you 
can  take  these  back  and  get  your  money  again.  It 
was  just  as  sweet  of  you,  Fairy,  and  we  thank  you, 
and  it  was  perfectly  dear  and  darling,  but  we  have 
papa's  now,  and — " 

"Good  for  papa!"  Fairy  cried,  and  burst  out 
laughing  at  the  joke  that  proved  so  expensive  for 
the  perpetrators.  "But  you  shall  have  my  burnt 
offering,  too.  It  serves  us  both  right,  but  especially 
me,  for  it  was  my  idea." 


A  GIFT  FROM  HEAVEN  53 

And  Fairy  walked  away  feeling  very  gratified 
and  generous. 

Only  girls  who  have  wanted  silk  stockings  for  a 
"whole  lifetime"  can  realize  the  blissful  state  of 
the  parsonage  twins.  They  lay  on  the  bed  planning 
the  most  impossible  but  magnificent  things  they 
would  do  to  show  their  gratitude,  and  when  Aunt 
Grace  stopped  at  their  door  they  leaped  up  to  over- 
whelm her  with  caresses  just  because  of  their  glad- 
ness. 

She  waved  them  away  witH  a  laugh.  "April 
Fool,  twins,"  she  said,  with  a  voice  so  soft  that  it 
took  all  the  sting  from  the  words.  "I  brought  you 
some  real  silk  stockings  for  a  change."  And  she 
tossed  them  a  package  and  started  out  of  the  room 
to  escape  their  thanks.  But  she  stopped  in  sur- 
prise when  the  girls  burst  into  merry  laughter. 

"Oh,  you  silk  stockings!"  Carol  cried.  "Three 
pairs !  .You  darling  sweet  old  auntie !  You  would 
come  up  here  to  tease  us,  would  you?  But  papa 
gave  us  a  pair,  and  Fairy  gave  us  a  pair,  and — " 

"They  did!  Why,  the  silly  things!"  And  the 
gentle  woman  looked  as  seriously  yexed  as  she  ever 


54  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

did  look — she  had  so  wanted  to  give  them  the  first 
silk-stocking  experience  herself. 

"Oh,  here  you  are,"  cried  Prudence,  stepping 
quickly  in,  and  speaking  very  brightly  to  counter- 
balance the  gloom  she  had  expected  to  encounter. 
She  started  back  in  some  dismay  when  she  saw  the 
twins  rolling  and  rocking  with  laughter,  and  Aunt 
Grace  leaning  against  the  dresser  for  support,  with 
Connie  on  the  floor,  quite  speechless. 

"Good  for  you,  twins, — that's  the  way  to  take 
hard  knocks,"  she  said.  "It  wasn't  a  very  nice  trick, 
though  of  course  papa  didn't  understand  how  you 
felt  about  silk  stockings.  It  wasn't  his  fault.  But 
Fairy  and  I  ought  to  be  ashamed,  and  we  are.  I 
went  out  and  got  you  some  real  genuine  silk  ones 
myself,  so  you  needn't  pray  for  them  any  more." 

Prudence  was  shocked,  a  little  hurt,  at  the  out- 
burst that  followed  her  words. 

"Well,  such  a  family!"  Aunt  Grace  exclaimed. 
And  then  Carol  pulled  her  bodily  down  beside  her 
on  the  bed  and  for  a  time  they  were  all  incapable  of 
explanations. 

"What  is  the  joke?"  Prudence  asked,  again  and 


A  GIFT  FROM  HEAVEN  55 

again,  smiling, — but  still  feeling  a  little  pique.  She 
had  counted  on  gladdening  their  sorry  little  hearts! 

"Stockings,  stockings —  Oh,  such  a  family!" 
shrieked  Carol. 

"There's  no  playing  jokes  on  the  twins,"  said 
Aunt  Grace  weakly.  "It  takes  the  whole  family  to 
square  up.  It's  too  expensive." 

Then  Lark  explained,  and  Prudence  sat  down  and 
joined  the  merriment,  which  waxed  so  noisy  that  Mr. 
Starr  from  the  library  and  Fairy  from  the  kitchen, 
ran  in  to  investigate. 

"April  Fool,  April  Fool,"  cried  Carol.  "We  never 
played  a  trick  like  this,  Larkie — this  is  our  master- 
piece." 

"You're  the  nicest  old  things  that  ever  lived," 
said  Lark,  still  laughing,  but  with  great  warmth  and 
tenderness  in  her  eyes  and  her  voice.  "But  you 
can  take  the  stockings  back  and  save  your  money 
if  you  like — we  love  you  just  as  much." 

But  this  the  happy  donors  stoutly  refused  to  do. 
The  twins  had  earned  this  wealth  of  hose,  and  final- 
ly, wiping  their  eyes,  the  twins  began  to  smooth 
their  hair  and  adjust  their  ribbons  and  belts. 


56  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

"What's  the  matter?"  "Where  are  you  going?" 
"Will  you  buy  the  rest  of  us  some  silk  stockings?" 
queried  the  family,  comic-opera  effect. 

"Where  are  we  going?"  Carol  repeated,  sur- 
prised, seeming  to  feel  that  any  one  should  know 
where  they  were  going,  though  they  had  not  spoken. 

"We're  going  to  call  on  our  friends,  of  course," 
explained  Lark. 

"Of  course,"  said  Carol,  jabbing  her  hair  pins  in 
with  startling  energy.  "And  we've  got  to  hurry. 
We  must  go  to  Mattie's,  and  Jean's,  and  Betty's, 
and  Fan's,  and  Birdie's,  and  Alice's,  and — say, 
Lark,  maybe  we'd  better  divide  up  and  each  take 
half.  It's  kind  of  late, — and  we  mustn't  miss  any." 

"Well,  what  on  earth!"  gasped  Prudence,  while 
the  others  stared  in  speechless  amazement. 

"For  goodness'  sake,  Carol,  hurry.  We  have  to 
get  clear  out  to  Minnie's  to-night,  if  we  miss  our 
supper." 

"But  what's  the  idea?  What  for?  What  are 
you  talking  about?" 

"Why,  you  silly  thing,"  said  Carol  patiently, 
"we  have  to  go  and  tell  our  friends  that  we've  got 
[four  pairs  of  silk  stockings,  of  course.  I  wouldn't 


A  GIFT  FROM  HEAVEN  57 

miss  this  afternoon  for  the  world.  And  we'll 
go  the  rounds  together,  Lark.  I  want  to  see  how 
they  take  it,"  she  smiled  at  them  benignly.  "I 
can  imagine  their  excitement.  And  we  owe  it  to 
the  world  to  give  it  all  the  excitement  we  can.  Pru- 
dence says  so." 

Prudence  looked  startled.    "Did  I  say  that?" 
"Certainly.    You  said  pleasure — but  excitement's 
very  pleasing,  most  of  the  time.    Come  on,  Larkie, 
we'll  have  to  walk  fast." 

And  with  a  fond  good-by  to  the  generous  family, 
the  twins  set  out  to  spread  the  joyful  tidings,  Lark 
pausing  at  the  door  just  long  enough  to  explain 
gravely,  "Of  course,  we  won't  tell  them — er — just 
how  it  happened,  you  know.  Lots  of  things  in  a 
parsonage  need  to  be  kept  dark.  Prudence  says  so 
herself." 


HOW   CAROL   SPOILED  THE   WEDDING 

A  DAY  in  June, — the  kind  of  day  that  poets 
have  rhymed  and  lovers  have  craved  since 
time  began.  On  the  side  porch  of  the  parsonage, 
in  a  wide  hammock,  lay  Aunt  Grace,  looking  lan- 
guidly through  half -closed  lids  at  the  girls  beneath 
her  on  the  step.  Prudence,  although  her  face  was  all 
a-dream,  bent  conscientiously  over  the  bit  of  linen 
in  her  hands.  And  Fairy,  her  piquantly  bright  fea- 
tures clouded  with  an  unwonted  frown,  crumpled  a 
letter  in  her  hand.  > 

"I  do  think  men  are  the  most  aggravating  things 
that  ever  lived,"  she  declared,  with  annoyance  in  her 
voice. 

The  woman  in  the  hammock  smiled  slightly,  and 
did  not  speak.,  Prudence  carefully  counted  ten 
threads,  and  solemnly  drew  one  before  she  voiced 
her  question. 

58 


"What  is  he  saying  now  ?" 

"Why,  he's  still  objecting  to  my  having  dates  with 
the  other  boys."  Fairy's  voice  was  vibrant  with 
grief.  "He  does  make  me  wild !  Aunt  Grace,  you 
can't  imagine.  Last  fall  I  mentioned  casually  that 
I  was  sure  he  wouldn't  object  to  my  having  lecture 
course  dates — I  was  too  hard  up  to  buy  a  ticket  for 
myself;  they  cost  four  dollars,  and  aren't  worth 
it,  either.  And  what  did  he  do  but  send  me  eight 
dollars  to  buy  two  sets  of  tickets !  Then  this  spring, 
when  the  baseball  season  opened,  he  sent  me 
season  tickets  to  all  the  games  suggesting  that  my 
financial  stringency  could  not  be  pleaded  as  an 
excuse.  Ever  since  he  went  to  Chicago  last  fall 
we've  been  fighting  because  the  boys  bring  me 
home  from  parties.  I  suppose  he  had  to  go 
and  learn  to  be  a  pharmacist,  but — it's  hard  on 
me.  He  wants  me  to  patter  along  by  myself 
like  a — like — like  a  hen!"  Fairy  said  "hen"  very 
crossly ! 

"It's  a  shame,"  said  Prudence  sympathetically. 
"That's  just  what  it  is.  You  wouldn't  say  a  word 
to  his  taking  girls  home  from  things,  would  you?" 

"Hum, — that's  a  different   matter,"   said   Fairy 


60  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

more  thoughtfully.  "He  hasn't  wanted  to  yet.  You 
see,  he's  a  man  and  can  go  by  himself  without  hav- 
ing it  look  as  though  nobody  wanted  to  be  seen 
with  him.  And  he's  a  stranger  over  there,  and 
doesn't  need  to  get  chummy  with  the  girls.  The 
boys  here  all  know  me,  and  ask  me  to  go,  and — a 
man,  you  see,  can  just  be  passive  and  nothing  hap- 
pens. But  a  girl's  got  to  be  downright  negative, 
and  it's  no  joke.  One  misses  so  many  good  times. 
You  see  the  cases  are  different,  Prue." 

"Yes,  that's  so,"  Prudence  assented  absent-mind- 
edly, counting  off  ten  more  threads. 

"Then  you  would  object  if  he  had  dates  ?"  queried 
Aunt  Grace  smilingly. 

"Oh,  no,  not  at  all, — if  there  was  any  occasion 
for  it — but  there  isn't.  And  I  think  I  would  be 
justified  in  objecting  if  he  deliberately  made 
occasions  for  himself,  don't  you?" 

"Yes,  that  would  be  different,"  Prudence  chimed 
in,  such  "miles  away"  in  her  voice,  that  Fairy  turned 
on  her  indignantly. 

"Prudence  Starr,  you  make  me  wild,"  she  said. 
"Can't  you  drop  that  everlasting  hemstitching,  em- 
broidering, tatting,  crocheting,  for  ten  minutes  to 


HOW  CAROL  SPOILED  THE  WEDDING  61 

talk  to  me  ?  What  in  the  world  are  you  going  to  do 
with  it  all,  anyhow?  Are  you  intending  to  carpet 
your  floors  with  it?" 

".This  is  a  napkin,"  Prudence  explained  good- 
naturedly.  "The  set  cost  me  fifteen  dollars."  She 
sighed. 

"Did  the  veil  come  ?"  The  clouds  vanished  mag- 
ically from  Fairy's  face,  and  she  leaned  forward 
with  that  joy  of  wedding  anticipation  that  rules  in 
[woman-world. 

"Yes,  it's  beautiful.  Come  and  see  it.  Wait 
until  I  pull  four  more  threads.  It's  gorgeous." 

"I  still  think  you're  making  a  great  mistake,"  de- 
clared Fairly  earnestly.  "I  don't  believe  in  big 
showy  church  weddings.  You'd  better  change  it 
yet.  A  little  home  affair  with  just  the  family, — 
that's  the  way  to  do  it.  All  this  satin-gown,  orange- 
blossom  elaboration  with  curious  eyes  staring  up 
and  down — ugh !  It's  all  wrong." 

Prudence  dropped  the  precious  fifteen-dollar-a- 
set  napkin  in  her  lap  and  gazed  at  Fairy  anxiously. 
"I  know  you  think  so,  Fairy,"  she  said.  "You've 
fold  me  so  several  times."  Fairy's  eyes  twinkled, 
but  Prudence  had  no  intention  of  sarcasm.  "But 


62  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

I  can't  help  it,  can  I  ?  We  had  quite  settled  on  the 
home  wedding,  but  when  the  twins  discovered  that 
the  members  felt  hurt  at  being  left  out,  father 
thought  we'd  better  change  over." 

"Well,  I  can't  see  that  the  members  have  any 
right  to  run  our  wedding.  Besides,  it  wouldn't  sur- 
prise me  if  the  twins  made  it  up  because  they  wanted 
a  big  fuss." 

"But  some  of  the  members  spoke  to  father." 

"Oh,  just  common  members  that  don't  count  for 
much — and  it  was  mighty  poor  manners  of  'em, 
too,  if  you'll  excuse  me  for  saying  so." 

"And  you  must  admit,  Fairy,  that  it  is  lovely  of 
the  Ladies'  Aid  to  give  that  dinner  at  the  hotel 

for  us." 
\ 

"Well,  they'll  get  their  money's  worth  of  talk 
out  of  it  afterward.  It's  a  big  mistake. — What  on 
earth  are  the  twins  doing  out  there?  Is  that  Jini 
Forrest  with  them  ?  Listen  how  they  are  screaming 
with  laughter !  Would  you  ever  believe  those  twins 
are  past  fifteen,  and  nearly  through  their  junior 
year?  They  haven't  as  much  sense  put  together  as 
Connie  has  all  alone." 

"Come  and  see  the  veil,"  said  Prudence,  rising. 


But  she  dropped  back  on  the  step  again  as  Carol 
came  rushing  toward  them  at  full  speed,  with  Lark 
and  a  tall  young  fellow  trailing  slowly,  laughing, 
behind  her. 

"The  mean  things !"  she  gasped.  "They  cheated !" 
She  dropped  a  handful  of  pennies  in  her  aunt's  lap 
as  she  lay  in  the  hammock.  "We'll  take  'em  to  Sun- 
day-school and  give  'em  to  the  heathen,  that's  what 
we'll  do.  They  cheated!" 

"Yes,  infant,  who  cheated,  and  how,  and  why? 
And  whence  the  startling  array  of  pennies?  And 
why  this  unwonted  affection  for  the  heathen?" 
mocked  Fairy. 

"Trying  to  be  a  blank  verse,  Fairy?  Keep  it  up, 
you  haven't  far  to  go! — There  they  are!  Look  at 
them,  Aunt  Grace.  They  cheated.  They  tried  to 
get  all  my  hard-earned  pennies  by  nefarious  meth- 
ods, and — " 

"And  so  Carol  stole  them  all,  and  ran !  Sit  down, 
Jim.  My,  it's  hot.  Give  me  back  my  pennies, 
Carol." 

"The  heathen!  The  heathen!'*  insisted  Carol. 
"Not  a  penny  do  you  get.  You  see,  Aunt  Grace, 
we  were  matching  pennies,- — you'd  better  not  men- 


64  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

tion  it  to  father.  We've  turned  over  a  new  leaf  now, 
and  quit  for  good.  But  we  were  matching — 
and  they  made  a  bargain  that  whenever  it  was  my 
turn,  one  of  them  would  throw  heads  and  one  tails, 
and  that  way  I  never  could  win  anything.  And  I 
didn't  catch  on  until  I  saw  Jim  wink,  and  so  of 
course  I  thought  it  was  only  right  to  give  the  pen- 
nies to  the  heathen." 

"Mercy,  Prudence,"  interrupted  Lark.  "Are  you 
doing  another  napkin  ?  This  is  the  sixteenth  dozen, 
isn't  it?  You'd  better  donate  some  of  them  to  the 
parsonage,  I  think.  I  was  so  ashamed  when  Miss 
Marsden  came  to  dinner.  She  opened  her  napkin 
out  wide,  and  her  finger  went  right  through  a  hole. 
I  was  mortified  to  death — and  Carol  laughed.  It 
seems  to  me  with  three  grown  women  in  the  house 
we  could  have  holeless  napkins,  one  for  company, 
anyhow." 

"How  is  your  mother,  Jim  ?" 

"Just  fine,  Miss  Prudence,  thank  you.  She  said 
to  tell  you  she  would  send  a  basket  of  red  Junes  to- 
morrow, if  you  want  them.  The  twins  can  eat 
them,  I  know.  Carol  ate  twenty-two  when  they 
were  out  Saturday." 


"Yes,  I  did,  and  I'm  glad  of  it,"  said  Carol 
stoutly.  "Such  apples  you  never  saw,  Prudence. 
They're  about  as  big  as  a  thimble,  and  two-thirds 
core.  They're  good,  they're  fine,  I'll  say  that, — 
but  there's  nothing  to  them.  I  could  have  eaten  as 
many  again  if  Jim  hadn't  been  counting  out  loud, 
and  I  got  kind  of  ashamed  because  every  one  was 
laughing.  If  I  had  a  ranch  as  big  as  yours,  Jim, 
I'll  bet  you  a  dollar  I'd  have  apples  bigger  than  a 
dime!" 

'  'Bet  you  a  dollar,'  "  quoted  Fairy. 

"Well,  I'll  wager  my  soul,  if  that  sounds  more 
like  Shakespeare.  Don't  go,  Jim,  we're  not  fight- 
ing. This  is  just  the  way  Fairy  and  I  make  love 
to  each  other.  You're  perfectly  welcome  to  stay, 
but  be  careful  of  your  grammar,  for  now  that 
Fairy's  a  senior — will  be  next  year,  if  she  lives — 
she  even  tries  to  teach  father  the  approved  method 
of  doing  a  ministerial  sneeze  in  the  pulpit." 

"Think  I'd  better  go,"  decided  the  tall  good- 
looking  youth,  laughing  as  he  looked  with  frank 
boyish  admiration  into  Carol's  sparkling  face. 
"With  Fairy  after  my  grammar,  and  you  to  criti- 
cize my  manner  and  my  morals,  I  see  right  now 


66  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

that  a  parsonage  is  no  safe  place  for  a  farmer's 
son."  And  laughing  again,  he  thrust  his  cap  into 
his  pocket,  and  walked  quickly  out  the  new  cement 
parsonage  walk.  But  at  the  gate  he  paused  to  call 
back,  "Don't  make  a  mistake,  Carol,  and  use  the 
heathen's  pennies  for  candy." 

The  girls  on  the  porch  laughed,  and  five  pairs 
of  eyes  gazed  after  the  tall  figure  rapidly  disappear- 
ing. 

"He's  nice,"  said  Prudence. 

"Yes,"  assented  Carol.  "I've  got  a  notion  to 
marry  him  after  a  little.  That  farm  of  his  is  worth 
about  ten  thousand." 

"Are  you  going  to  wait  until  he  asks  you?" 

"Certainly  not !  Anybody  can  marry  a  man  after 
he  asks  her.  The  thing  to  do,  if  you  want  to  be 
really  original  and  interesting,  is  to  marry  him  be- 
fore he  asks  you  and  surprise  him." 

"Yes,"  agreed  Lark,  "if  you  wait  until  he  asks 
you  he's  likely  to  think  it  over  once  too  often  and 
not  ask  you  at  all." 

"Doesn't  that  sound  exactly  like  a  book,  now?" 
demanded  Carol  proudly.  "Fairy  couldn't  have 
said  that !" 


HOW  CAROL  SPOILED  THE  WEDDING  67 

"No,"  said  Fairy,  "I  couldn't.  Thank  goodness! 
— I  have  what  is  commonly  known  as  brains.  Look 
it  up  in  the  dictionary,  twins.  It's  something  you 
ought  to  know  about." 

"Oh,  Prudence,"  cried  Lark  dramatically,  "I 
forgot  to  tell  you.  You  can't  get  married  after 
all." 

For  ten  seconds  Prudence,  as  well  as  Fairy  and 
their  aunt,  stared  in  speechless  amazement.  Then 
Prudence  smiled. 

"Oh,  can't  I?    What's  the  joke  now?" 

"Joke!  It's  no  joke.  Carol's  sick,  that's  what's 
the  joke.  You  can't  be  married  without  Carol,  can 
you?" 

A  burst  of  gay  laughter  greeted  this  announce- 
ment. 

"Carol  sick!    She  acts  sick!" 

"She  looks  sick!" 

"Where  is  she  sick?" 

Carol  leaned  limply  back  against  the  pillar,  trying 
to  compose  her  bright  face  into  a  semblance  of  ill- 
ness. "In  my  tummy,"  she  announced  weakly. 

This  called  forth  more  laughter.  "It's  her  con- 
science," said  Fairy. 


68  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

"It's  matching  pennies.  Maybe  she  swallowed 
one." 

"It's  probably  those  two  pieces  of  pie  she  ate  for 
dinner,  and  the  one  that  vanished  from  the  pantry 
shortly  after,"  suggested  Aunt  Grace. 

Carol  sat  up  quickly.  "Welcome  home,  Aunt 
Grace !"  she  cried.  "Did  you  have  a  pleasant  visit  ?" 

"Carol,"  reproved  Prudence. 

"I  didn't  mean  it  for  impudence,  auntie,"  said 
Carol,  getting  up  and  bending  affectionately  over 
the  hammock,  gently  caressing  the  brown  hair  just 
beginning  to  silver  about  her  forehead.  "But  it  does 
amuse  me  so  to  hear  a  lady  of  your  age  and  dignity 
Indulge  in  such  lavish  conversational  exercises." 

Lark  swallowed  with  a  forced  effort.  "Did  it 
hurt,  Carol?  How  did  you  get  it  all  out  in  one 
breath?" 

"Lark,  I  do  wish  you  wouldn't  gulp  that  way 
when  folks  use  big  words,"  said  Fairy.  "It  looks — 
awful." 

*'WelI,  I  won't  when  I  get  to  be  as  old  and 
crabbed  as — father,"  said  Lark.  "Sit  down,  Carol, 
and  remember  you're  sick." 


HOW  CAROL  SPOILED  THE  WEDDING    69 

Carol  obediently  sat  down,  and  looked  sicker  than 
ever. 

"You  can  laugh  if  you  like,"  she  said,  "I  am 
sick,  at  least,  I  was  this  afternoon.  I've  been  feel- 
ing very  queer  for  three  or  four  days.  I  don't 
think  I'm  quite  over  it  yet/' 

"Pie!  You  were  right,  Aunt  Grace!  That's  the 
way  pie  works." 

"It's  not  pie  at  all,"  declared  Carol  heatedly. 
"And  I  didn't  take  that  piece  out  of  the  pantry,  at 
least,  not  exactly.  I  caught  Connie  sneaking  it,  and 
I  gave  her  a  good  calling  down,  and  she  hung  her 
head  and  slunk  away  in  disgrace.  But  she  had 
taken  such  big  bites  that  it  looked  sort  of  unsani- 
tary, so  I  thought  I'd  better  finish  it  before  it  gath- 
ered any  germs.  But  it's  not  pie.  Now  that  I 
think  of  it,  it  was  my  head  where  I  was  sick.  Don't 
you  remember,  Lark,  I  said  my  head  ached?" 

"Yes,  and  her  eyes  got  red  and  bleary  when  she 
was  reading.  And — and  there  was  something  else, 
too,  Carol,  what — " 

"Your  eyes  are  bloodshot,  Carol.  They  do  look 
bad."  Prudence  examined  them  closely.  "Now, 


70  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

Carol  Starr,  don't  you  touch  another  book  or  maga- 
zine until  after  the  wedding.  If  you  think  I  want  a 
bloodshot  bridesmaid,  you're  mistaken." 

They  all  turned  to  look  across  the  yard  at  Con- 
nie, just  turning  in.  Connie  always  walked,  as 
Carol  said,  "as  if  she  mostly  wasn't  there."  But 
she  usually  "arrived"  by  the  time  she  got  within 
speaking  distance  of  her  sister. 

"Goodness,  Prue,  aren't  you  going  to  do  anything 
but  eat  after  you  move  to  Des  Moines  ?  Carol  and 
I  were  counting  the  napkins  last  night, — was  it 
a  hundred  and  seventy-six,  Carol,  or — some  awful 
number  I  know.  Carol  piled  them  up  in  two  piles 
and  we  kneeled  on  them  to  say  our  prayers,  and — I 
can't  say  for  sure,  but  I  think  Carol  pushed  me. 
Anyhow,  I  lost  my  balance,  and  usually  I'm  pretty 
well  balanced.  I  toppled  over  right  after  'God  save/ 
and  Carol  screamed  'the  napkins' — Prue's  wedding 
napkins !  It  was  an  awful  funny  effect ;  I  couldn't 
finish  my  prayers." 

"Carol  Starr!    Fifteen  years  old  and  — " 

"That's  a  very  much  exaggerated  story,  Prue. 
Connie  blamed  it  on  me  as  usual.  She  piled  them 
up  herself  to  see  if  there  were  two  feet  of  them, — < 


HOW  CAROL  SPOILED  THE  WEDDING  71 

she  put  her  stockings  on  the  floor  first  so  the  dust 
wouldn't  rub  off.  It  was  Lark's  turn  to  sweep  and 
you  know  how  Lark  sweeps,  and  Connie  was  very 
pareful,  indeed,  and  — " 

"Come  on,  Fairy,  and  see  the  veil !" 

"The  veil!    Did  it  come?" 

With  a  joyous  undignified  whoop  the  parsonage 
girls  scrambled  to  their  feet  and  rushed  indoors  in 
a  fine  Kilkenny  jumble.  Aunt  Grace  looked  after 
them,  thoughtfully,  smiling  for  a  second,  and  then 
with  a  girlish  shrug  of  her  slender  shoulders  she 
slipped  out  and  followed  them  inside. 

The  last  thing  that  night,  before  she  said  her 
prayers,  Prudence  carried  a  big  bottle  of  witch 
hazel  into  the  twins'  room.  Both  were  sleeping, 
but  she  roused  Carol,  and  Lark  turned  over  to 
listen. 

"You  must  bathe  your  eyes  with  this,  Carol.  I 
forgot  to  tell  you.  What  would  Jerry  say  if  he  had 
a  bleary-eyed  bridesmaid !" 

And  although  the  twins  grumbled  and  mumbled 
about  the  idiotic  nonsense  of  getting-married  folks, 
Carol  obediently  bathed  the  bloodshot  eyes.  For 
in  their  heart  of  hearts,  every  one  of  the  parsonage 


72  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

girls  held  this  wedding  to  be  the  affair  of  prime 
importance,  national  and  international,  as  well  as 
just  plain  Methodist. 

The  twins  were  undeniably  lazy,  and  slept  as  late 
of  mornings  as  the  parsonage  law  allowed.  So  it 
was  that  when  Lark  skipped  into  the  dining-room, 
three  minutes  late  for  breakfast,  she  found  the 
whole  family,  with  the  exception  of  Carol,  well  in 
the  midst  of  their  meal. 

"She  was  sick,"  she  began  quickly,  then  inter- 
rupting herself, — "Oh,  good  morning!  Beg  par- 
don for  forgetting  my  manners.  But  Carol  was 
sick,  Prudence,  and  I  hope  you  and  Fairy  are 
ashamed  of  yourselves — and  auntie,  too — for  mak- 
ing fun  of  her.  She  couldn't  sleep  all  night,  and 
rolled  and  tossed,  and  her  head  hurt  and  she  talked 
in  her  sleep,  and  — " 

"I  thought  she  didn't  sleep." 

"Well,  she  didn't  sleep  much,  but  when  she  did 
she  mumbled  and  said  things  and  — " 

Then  the  dining-room  door  opened  again,  and 
Carol — her  hair  about  her  shoulders,  her  feet  bare, 
envoleped  in  a  soft  and  clinging  kimono  of  faded 


HOW  CAROL  SPOILED  THE  WEDDING  73 

blue — stalked  majestically  into  the  room.  There  was 
woe  in  her  eyes,  and  her  voice  was  tragic. 

"It  is  gone,"  she  said.    "It  is  gone !" 

Her  appearance  was  uncanny  to  say  the  least,  and 
the  family  gazed  at  her  with  some  concern,  despite 
the  fact  that  Carol's  vagaries  were  so  common  as 
usually  to  elicit  small  respect. 

"Gone!"  she  cried,  striking  her  palms  together. 
"Gone!" 

"If  you  do  anything  to  spoil  that  wedding,  papa'll 
whip  you,  if  you  are  fifteen  years  old,"  said  Fairy. 

Lark  sprang  to  her  sister's  side.  "What's  gone, 
Carrie?"'  she  pleaded  with  sympathy,  almost  with 
tears.  "What's  gone?  Are  you  out  of  your  head?" 

"No !  Out  of  my  complexion,"  was  the  dramatic 
answer. 

Even  Lark  fell  back,  for  the  moment,  stunned. 
"Y-your  complexion,"  she  faltered. 

"Look !  Look  at  me,  Lark.  Don't  you  see  ?  My 
complexion  is  gone — my  beautiful  complexion  that 
I  loved.  Look  «t  me !  Oh,  I  would  gladly  have 
sacrificed  a  leg,  or  an  arm,  a — rib  or  an  eye,  but  not 
my  dear  complexion!" 


74  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

Sure  enough,  now  that  they  looked  carefully, 
they  could  indeed  perceive  that  the  usual  soft  cream- 
iness  of  Carol's  skin  was  prickled  and  sparred  with 
ugly  red  splotches.  Her  eyes  were  watery,  shot 
with  blood.  For  a  time  they  gazed  in  silence,  then 
they  burst  into  laughter. 

"Pie!"  cried  Fairy.  "It's  raspberry  pie,  coming 
out,  Carol!" 

The  corners  of  Carol's  lips  twitched  slightly,  and 
it  was  with  difficulty  that  she  maintained  her 
wounded  regal  bearing.  But  Lark,  always  quick 
to  resent  an  indignity  to  this  twin  of  her  heart, 
turned  upon  them  angrily. 

"Fairy  Starr!  You  are  a  wicked  unfeeling 
thing!  You  sit  there  and  laugh  and  talk  about  pie 
when  Carol  is  sick  and  suffering — her  lovely  com- 
plexion all  ruined,  'and  it  was  the  joy  of  my  life, 
that  complexion  was.  Papa, — why  don't  you  do 
something  ?" 

But  he  only  laughed  harder  than  ever.  "If  there's 
anything  more  preposterous  than  Carol's  vanity  be- 
cause of  her  beauty,  it's  Lark's  vanity  for  her,"  he 
said. 

Aunt  Grace  drew  Carol  to  her  side,  and  examined 


HOW  CAROL  SPOILED  THE  WEDDING  75 

the  ruined  complexion  closely.  Then  she  smiled, 
but  there  was  regret  in  her  eyes. 

"Well,  Carol,  you've  spoiled  your  part  of  the 
wedding  sure  enough.  [You've  got  the  measles." 

Then  came  the  silence  of  utter  horror. 

"Not  the  measles,"  begged  Carol,  wounded 
afresh.  "Give  me  diphtheria,  or  smallpox,  or — or 
even  leprosy,  and  I'll  bear  it  bravely  and  with  a 
smile,  but  it  shall  not  be  said  that  Carol's  measles 
spoiled  the  wedding." 

"Oh,  Carol,"  wailed  Prudence,  "don't  have  the 
measles, — please  don't.  I've  waited  all  my  life  for 
this  wedding, — don't  spoil  it." 

"Well,  it's  your  own  fault,  Prue,"  interrupted 
Lark.  "If  you  hadn't  kept  us  all  cooped  up  when 
we  were  little  we'd  have  had  measles  long  ago.  Now, 
like  as  not  the  whole  family'll  have  'em,  and  serve 
you  right.  No  self-respecting  family  has  any  busi- 
ness to  grow  up  without  having  the  measles." 

"What  shall  we  do  now?"  queried  Constance 
practically. 

"Well,  I  always  said  it  was  a  mistake,"  said 
Fairy.  "A  big  wedding — " 

"Oh,  Fairy,  please  don't  tell  me  that  again.     I 


76  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

know  it  so  well.  Papa,  whatever  shall  we  do? 
Maybe  Jerry  hasn't  had  them  either." 

"Why,  it's  easily  arranged,"  said  Lark.  "We'll 
just  postpone  the  wedding  until  Carol's  quite  well 
again." 

"Bad  luck,"  said  Connie. 

"Too  much  work,"  said  Fairy. 

"Well,  she  can't  get  married  without  Carol,  can 
she?"  ejaculated  Lark. 

"Are  you  sure  it's  measles,  Aunt  Grace  ?" 

"Yes,  it's  measles." 

"Then,"  said  Fairy,  "we'll  get  Alice  Bird  or 
or  Katie  Free  to  bridesmaid  with  Lark.  They  are 
the  same  size  and  either  will  do  all  right.  She  can 
wear  Carol's  dress.  You  won't  mind  that,  will 
you,  Carol?" 

"No,"  said  Carol  moodily,  "of  course  I  won't. 
The  only  real  embroidery  dress  I  ever  had  in  my 
life — and  haven't  got  that  yet!  But  go  ahead  and 
get  anybody  you  like.  I'm  hoodooed,  that's  what 
it  is.  It's  a  punishment  because  you  and  Jim 
cheated  yesterday,  Lark." 

"What  did  you  do?"  asked  Connie.  "You  seem 
to  be  getting  the  punishment !" 


HOW  CAROL  SPOILED  THE  WEDDING  77 

"Shall  we  have  Alice  or  Katie?  Which  do  you 
prefer,  Lark?" 

"You'll  have  to  get  them  both,"  was  the  stoic 
answer.  "I  won't  bridesmaid  without  Carol." 

"Don't  be  silly,  Lark.    You'll  have  to." 

"Then  wait  for  Carol." 

"Papa,  you  must  make  her." 

"No,"  said  Prudence  slowly,  with  a  white  face. 
"We'll  postpone  it.  I  won't  get  married  without 
the  whole  family." 

"I  said  right  from  the  start  — 

"Oh,  yes,  Fairy,  we  know  what  you  said,"  inter- 
jected Carol.  "We  know  how  you'll  get  married. 
First  man  that  gets  moonshine  enough  into  his  head 
to  propose  to  you,  you'll  trot  him  post  haste  to  the 
justice  before  he  thinks  twice." 

In  the  end,  the  wedding  was  postponed  a  couple 
of  months, — for  both  Connie  and  Fairy  took  the 
measles.  But  when  at  last,  the  wedding  party,  mar- 
shalled by  Connie  with  a  huge  white  basket  of  flow- 
ers, trailed  down  the  time-honored  aisle  of  the  Meth- 
odist church,  it  was  without  one  dissenting  voice 
pronounced  the  crowning  achievement  of  Mr. 
Starr's  whole  pastorate. 


78  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

"I  was  proud  of  us,  Lark,"  Carol  told  her  twin, 
after  it  was  over,  and  Prudence  had  gone,  and  the 
girls  had  wept  themselves  weak  on  each  other's 
shoulders.  "We  get  so  in  the  habit  of  doing  things 
wrong  that  I  half  expected  myself  to  pipe  up  ahead 
of  father  with  the  ceremony.  It  seems — awful — 
without  Prudence, — but  it's  a  satisfaction  to  know 
that  she  was  the  best  married  bride  Mount  Mark 
has  ever  seen." 

"Jerry  looked  awfully  handsome,  didn't  he?  Did 
you  notice  how  he  glowed  at  Prudence?  I  wish 
you  were  artistic,  Carol,  so  you  could  illustrate  my 
books.  Jerry'd  make  a  fine  illustration." 

"We  looked  nice,  too.  We're  not  a  bad-looking 
bunch  when  you  come  right  down  to  facts.  Of 
course,  it  is  fine  to  be  as  smart  as  you  are,  Larkie, 
but  I'm  not  jealous.  We're  mighty  lucky  to  have 
both  beauty  and  brains  in  our  twin-ship, — and  since 
one  can't  have  both,  I  may  say  I'd  just  as  lief  be 
pretty.  It's  so  much  easier." 

"Carol!" 

"What?" 

"We're  nearly  grown  up  now.  We'll  have  to  be- 
gin to  settle  down.  Prudence  says  so." 


HOW  CAROL  SPOILED  THE  WEDDING  79 

For  a  few  seconds  Carol  wavered,  tremulous. 
Then  she  said  pluckily,  "All  right.  Just  wait  till  I 
powder  my  nose,  will  you?  It  gets  so  shiny  when 
I  cry." 

"Carol!" 

"What?" 

"Isn't  the  house  still?" 

"Yes— ghastly." 

"I  never  thought  Prudence  was  much  of  a  chat- 
ter-box, but — listen!  There  isn't  a  sound." 

Carol  held  out  a  hand,  and  Lark  clutched  it  des- 
perately. 

"Let's— let's  go  find  the  folks.  This  is— awful! 
Little  old  Prudence  is  gone!" 


CHAPTER  V 

THE   SERENADE 

A  SUBJECT  that  never  failed  to  arouse  the 
sarcasm  and  the  ire  of  Fairy  was  that  of  the 
Slaughter-house  Quartette.  This  was  composed 
of  four  young  men — men  quite  outside  the  pale  as 
far  as  the  parsonage  was  concerned — the  disreput- 
able characters  of  the  community,  familiar  in  the 
local  jail  for  frequent  bursts  of  intoxication.  They 
slouched,  they  smoked,  they  lounged,  they  leered. 
The  churches  knew  them  not.  They  were  the  slum 
element,  the  Bowery  of  Mount  Mark,  Iowa. 

Prudence,  in  her  day,  had  passed  them  by  with  a 
shy  slight  nod  and  a  glance  of  tender  pity.  Fairy 
and  Lark,  and  even  Connie,  sailed  by  with  high 
heads  and  scornful  eyes, — haughty,  proud,  icily  re- 
moved. But  Carol,  by  some  weird  and  inexplicable 
fancy,  treated  them  with  sweet  and  gracious  solici- 
tude, quite  friendly.  Her  smile  as  she  passed  was 

80 


THE  SERENADE  81 

as  sweet  as  for  her  dearest  friend.  Her  "Good 
morning, — isn't  this  glorious  weather?"  was  as  af- 
fably cordial  as  her,  "Breakfast  is  ready,  papa!" 

This  was  the  one  subject  of  dispute  between  the 
twins'. 

"Oh,  please  don't,  Carol,  it  does  make  me  so 
ashamed,"  Lark  entreated. 

"You  mustn't  be  narrow-minded,  Larkie,"  Carol 
argued.  "We're  minister's  girls,  and  we've  got  to 
be  a  good  influence, — an  encouragement  to  the— er, 
weak  and  erring,  you  know.  Maybe  my  smiles  will 
be  an  inspiration  to  them." 

And  on  this  point  Carol  stood  firm  even  against 
the  tears  of  her  precious  twin. 

One  evening  at  the  dinner  table  Fairy  said,  with 
a  mocking  smile,  "How  are  your  Slaughter-house 
'friends  to-day,  Carol  ?  When  I  was  at  the  dentist's 
I  saw  you  coming  along,  beaming  at  them  in  your 
own  inimitable  way." 

"Oh,  they  seemed  all  right,"  Carol  answered, 
with  a  deprecating  glance  toward  her  father  and 
her  aunt. 

"I  see  by  last  night's  paper  that  Guy  Fleisher  is 
just  out  after  his  last  thirty  days  up,"  Fairy  con- 


82  PRUDENCE  'SAYS  SO 

tinued  solicitously.  "Did  he  find  his  incarceration 
trying?"  . 

"I  didr?t  discuss  it  with  him,"  Carol  said  indig- 
nantly. "I  never  talk  to  them.  I  just  say  'Good 
morning'  in  Christian  charity." 

Aunt  Grace's  eyes  were  smiling  as  always,  but 
'for  the  first  time  Carol  felt  that  the  smiles  were  at, 
instead  of  with,  her. 

"You  would  laugh  to  see  her,  Aunt  Grace,"  Fairy 
explained.  "They  are  generally  half  intoxicated, 
sometimes  wholly.  And  Carol  trips  by,  clean,  white 
and  shining.  They  are  always  lounging  against  the 
store  windows  or  posts  for  support,  bleary-eyed, 
dissipated,  swaggery,  staggery.  Carol  nods  and 
smiles  as  only  Carol  can,  'Good  morning,  boys! 
Isn't  it  a  lovely  day  ?  Are  you  feeling  well  ?'  And 
they  grin  at  her  and  sway  ingratiatingly  against 
one  another,  and  say,  'Mornin',  Carol.'  Carol  is  the 
only  really  decent  person  in  town  that  has  anything 
to  do  with  them." 

"Carol  means  all  right,"  declared  Lark  angrily. 

"Yes,  indeed,"  assented  Fairy,  "They  call  them 
the  Slaughter-house  Quartette,  auntie,  because 
whenever  they  are  sober  enough  to  walk  without 


THE  SERENADE  83 

police  assistance,  they  wander  through  the  streets 
slaughtering  the  peace  and  serenity  of  the  quiet 
town  with  their  rendition  of  all  the  late,  disgrace- 
ful sentimental  ditties.  They  are  in  many  ways 
striking  characters.  I  do  not  wholly  misunder- 
stand their  attraction  for  romantic  Carol.  They 
are  something  like  the  troubadours  of  old — only 
more  so." 

Carol's  face  was  crimson.  "I  don't  like  them," 
she  cried,  "but  I'm  sorry  for  them.  I  think  maybe 
I  can  make  them  see  the  difference  between  us,  me 
so  nice  and  respectable  you  know,  and  them  so — 
animalish!  It  may  arouse  their  better  natures — I 
suppose  they  have  better  natures.  I  want  to  show 
them  that  the  decent  element,  we  Christians,  are 
sorry  for  them  and  want  to  make  them  better." 

"Carol  wants  to  be  an  influence,"  Fairy  continued. 
"Of  course,  it  is  a  little  embarrassing  for  the  rest 
of  us  to  have  her  on  such  friendly  terms  with  the 
most  unmentionable  characters  in  all  Mount  Mark. 
But  Carol  is  like  so  many  reformers, — in  the  pres- 
ence of  one  great  truth  she  has  eyes  for  it  only, 
ignoring  a  thousand  other,  greater  truths." 

"I  am  sorry  for  them,"  Carol  repeated,  more 


84  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

weakly,  abashed  by  tHe  presence  of  tHe  united 
family.  Fairy's  dissertations  on  this  subject  had 
usually  occurred  in  private. 

Mr.  Starr  mentally  resolved  that  he  would  talk 
this  over  with  Carol  when  the  others  were  not 
present,  for  he  knew  from  her  face  and  her  voice 
that  she  was  really  sensitive  on  the  subject.  And 
he  knew,  too,  that  it  is  difficult  to  explain  to  the 
very  young  that  the  finest  of  ideas  are  not  applica- 
ble to  all  cases  by  all  people.  But  it  happened  that 
he  was  spared  the  necessity  of  dealing  with  Carol 
privately,  for  matters  adjusted  themselves  without 
his  assistance. 

The  second  night  following  was  an  eventful  one 
in  the  parsonage.  One  of  the  bishops  of  the  church 
was  in  Mount  Mark  for  a  business  conference  with 
the  religious  leaders,  and  was  to  spend  the  night  at 
the  parsonage.  The  meeting  was  called  for  eight- 
thirty  for  the  convenience  of  the  business  men  con- 
cerned, and  was  to  be  held  in  the  church  offices. 
The  men  left  early,  followed  shortly  by  Fairy  whd 
designed  to  spend  the  evening  at  the  Averys'  home, 
testing  their  supply  of  winter1  apples.  The  twins 
and  Connie,  with  the  newest  and  most  thrilling  book 


THE  SERENADE  85 

Mr.  Carnegie  afforded  the  town,  went  up-stairs  to 
lie  on  the  bed  and  take  turns  reading  aloud.  And  for 
a  few  hours  the  parsonage  was  as  calm  and  peace- 
ful as  though  it  were  not  designed  for  the  housing 
of  merry  minister's  daughters. 

Aunt  Grace  sat  down-stairs  darning  stockings. 
The  girls'  intentions  had  been  the  best  in  the  world, 
but  in  less  than  a  year  the  family  darning  had 
fallen  entirely  into  the  capable  and  willing  hands 
of  the  gentle  chaperon. 

It  was  half  past  ten.  The  girls  had  just  seen 
their  heroine  rescued  from  a  watery  grave  and  mar- 
ried to  her  bold  preserver  by  a  minister  who  hap- 
pened to  be  writing  a  sermon  on  the  beach — no 
mention  of  how  the  license  was  secured  extempo- 
raneously— and  with  sighs  of  gratified  sentiment 
they  lay  happily  on  the  bed  thinking  it  all  over. 
And  then,  from  beneath  the  peach  trees  clustered 
on  the  south  side  of  the  parsonage,  a  burst  of 
melody  arose. 

"Good  morning,  Carrie,  how  are  you  this  morn- 

ing?" 

The  girls  sat  up  abruptly,  staring  at  one  another, 
as  the  curious  ugly  song  wafted  in  upon  them. 


86  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

Conviction  dawned  slowly,  sadly,  but  unquestion- 
ably. 

[The  Slaughter-house  Quartette  was  serenading 
Carol  in  return  for  her  winsome  smiles ! 

Carol  herself  was  literally  struck  dumb.  Her 
face  grew  crimson,  then  white.  In  her  heart,  she 
repeated  psalms  of  thanksgiving  that  Fairy  was 
away,  and  that  her  father  and  the  bishop  would 
not  be  in  until  this  colossal  disaster  was  over. 

Connie  was  mortified.  It  seemed  like  a  whole- 
sale parsonage  insult.  Lark,  after  the  first  awful 
realization,  lay  back  on  the  bed  and  rolled  con- 
vulsively. 

"You're  an  influence  all  right,  Carol,"  she  gur- 
gled. "Will  you  listen  to  that?" 

For  Rufus  Rastus  Johnson  Brown  was  the  second 
choice  of  her  cavaliers  below  in  the  darkness. 

"Rufus  Rastus,"  Lark  cried,  and  then  was 
choked  with  laughter.  "Of  course,  it  would  be — 
proper  if  they  sang  hynins  but — oh,  listen !" 

^The  rollicking  strains  of  Budweiser  were  swung 
gaily  out  upon  the  night. 

Carol   writhed   in   anguish.     Jhe  serenade  was 


THE  SERENADE  87 

bad  enough,  but  this  unmerciful  mocking  derision 
of  her  adored  twin  was  unendurable. 

Then  the  quartette  waxed  sentimental.  They 
sang,  and  not  badly,  a  few  old  southern  melodies, 
and  started  slowly  around  the  corner  of  the  house, 
still  singing. 

It  has  been  said  that  Aunt  Grace  was  always 
kind,  always  gentle,  unsuspicious  and  without  guile. 
She  had  heard  the  serenade,  and  promptly  con- 
cluded that  it  was  the  work  of  some  of  the  high- 
school  boys  who  were  unanimously  devoted  to 
Carol.  She  had  a  big  box  of  chocolates  up-stairs, 
for  Connie's  birthday  celebration.  She  could  get 
them,  and  make  lemonade,  and — 

She  opened  the  door  softly  and  stepped  out,  di- 
rectly in  the  path  of  the  startled  youths.  Full  of 
her  hospitable  intent,  she  was  not  discerning  as 
parsonage  people  need  to  be. 

"Come  in,  boys,"  she  said  cordially,  "the  girls 
will  be  down  in  a  minute." 

The  appearance  of  a  guardian  angel  summoning 
them  to  Paradise  could  not  have  confounded  them 
more  utterly.  They  stumbled  all  over  one  another 


I 

88  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

in  trying  to  back  away  from  her.  She  laughed 
softly. 

"Don't  be  bashful.  We  enjoyed  it  very  much. 
Yes,  come  right  in." 

Undoubtedly  they  would  have  declined  if  only 
they  Could  have  thought  of  the  proper  method  of 
doing  so.  As  it  was,  they  only  succeeded  in  shamb- 
ling through  the  parsonage  door,  instinctively  con- 
cealing their  half-smoked  cigarettes  beneath  their 
fingers. 

Aunt  Grace  ushered  them  into  the  pleasant  living- 
room,  and  ran  up  to  summon  her  nieces. 

Left  alone,  the  boys  looked  at  one  another  with 
amazement  and  with  grief,  and  the  leader,  the  touch- 
ing tenor,  said  with  true  musical  fervor,  "Well, 
this  is  a  go !" 

In  the  meantime,  the  girls,  with  horror,  had  heard 
their  aunt's  invitation.  What  in  the  world  did  she 
mean?  Was  it  a  trick  between  her  and  Fairy? 
Had  they  hired  the  awful  Slaughterers  to  bring 
this  disgrace  upon  the  parsonage?  Sternly  they 
faced  her  when  she  opened  their  door. 

"Come    down,    girls — I    invited    them    in.     I'm 


THE  SERENADE  89 

going  to  make  lemonade  and  serve  my  nice  choco- 
lates. Hurry  down." 

"You  invited  them  in !"  echoed  Connie. 

"The  Slaughter-house  Quartette,"  hissed  Lark. 

Then  Aunt  Grace  whirled  about  and  stared  at 
them.  "Mercy!"  she  whispered,  remembering  for 
the  first  time  Fairy's  words.  "Mercy !  Is  it — that  ? 
I  thought  it  was  high-school  boys  and — mercy !" 

"Mercy  is  good,"  said  Carol  grimly. 

"You'll  have  to  put  them  out,"  suggested  Connie. 

"I  can't!  How  can  I? — How  did  I  know? — i 
What  on  earth, —  Oh,  Carol  whatever  made  you 
smile  at  them  ?"  she  wailed  helplessly.  "You  know 
how  men  are  when  they  are  smiled  at !  The  bishop — " 

"You'll  have  to  get  them  out  before  the  bishop 
comes  back,"  said  Carol.  "You  must.  And  if  any 
of  you  ever  give  this  away  to  father  or  Fairy  I'll — " 

"You'd  better  go  down  a  minute,  girls,"  urged 
their  aunt.  "That  will  be  the  easiest  way.  I'll  just 
pass  the  candy  and  invite  them  to  come  again  and 
then  they'll  go.  Hurry  now,  and  we'll  get  rid  of 
them  before  the  others  come.  Be  as  decent  as  you 
can,  and  it'll  soon  be  over," 


90  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

Thusiadjured,  with  the  dignity  of  the  bishop  and 
the  laughter  of  Fairy  ever  in  their  thoughts,  the 
girls  arose  and  went  down,  proudly,  calmly,  loft- 
ily. Their  inborn  senses  of  humor  came  to  their  as- 
sistance when  they  entered  the  living-room.  The 
Slaughter  boys  looked  far  more  slaughtered  than 
slaughtering.  They  sat  limply  in  their  chairs,  ner- 
vously twitching  their  yellowed  slimy  fingers,  their 
dull  eyes  intent  upon  the  worn  spots  in  the  carpet. 
It  was  funny!  Even  Carol  smiled,  not  the  serene 
sweet  smile  that  melted  hearts,  but  the  grim  hard 
smile  of  the  joker  when  the  tables  are  turned !  She 
flattered  herself  that  this  wretched  travesty  on  par- 
sonage courtesy  would  be  ended  before  there  were 
any  further  witnesses  to  her  downfall  from  her 
proud  fine  heights,  but  she  was  doomed  to  disap- 
pointment. Fairy,  on  the  Averys'  porch,  had  heard 
the  serenade.  After  the  first  shock,  and  after  the 
helpless  laughter  that  followed,  she  bade  her  friends 
good  night. 

"Oh,  I've  just  got  to  go,"  she  said.  "It's  a  joke 
on  Carol.  I  wouldn't  miss  it  for  twenty-five  bush- 
els of  apples, — even  as  good  as  these  are." 

Her  eyes  twinking  with  delight,  she  ran  home 


THE  SERENADE  91 

and  waited  behind  the  rose  bushes  until  the  mo- 
ment for  her  appearance  seemed  at  hand.  Then  she 
stepped  into  the  room  where  her  outraged  sisters 
were  stoically  passing  precious  and  luscious  choco- 
lates to  tobacco-saturated  youths. 

"Good  evening,"  she  said.  "The  Averys  and  I 
enjoyed  the  concert,  too.  I  do  love  to  hear  music 
outdoors  on  still  nights  like  these.  Carol,  maybe 
your  friends  would  like  a  drink.  Are  there  any 
lemons,  auntie  ?  We  might  have  a  little  lemonade." 

Carol  writhed  helplessly.  "I'll  make  it,"  she 
said,  and  rushed  to  the  kitchen  to  vent  her  fury 
by  shaking  the  very  life  out  of  the  lemons.  But 
she  did  not  waste  time.  Her  father's  twinkles  were 
nearly  as  bad  as  Fairy's  own — and  the  bishop ! 

"I'd  wish  it  would  choke  'em  if  it  wouldn't  take 
so  long,"  she  muttered  passionately,  as  she  hurried 
in  with  the  pitcher  and  glasses,  ready  to  serve  the 
"slums"  with  her  own  chaste  hands. 

She  was  just  serving  the  melting  tenor  when  she 
heard  her  father's  voice  in  the  hall. 

"Too  late,"  she  said  aloud,  and  with  such  despair 
in  her  voice  that  Fairy  relented  and  mentally  prom- 
ised to  "see  her  through." 


92  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

Mr.  Starr's  eyes  twinkled  freely  when  he  saw 
the  guests  in  his  home,  and  the  gentle  bishop's 
puzzled  interest  nearly  sent  them  all  off  into  laugh- 
ter. Fairy  had  no  idea  of  the  young  men's  names, 
but  she  said,  quickly,  to  spare  Carol: 

"We  have  been  serenaded  to-night,  Doctor — you 
just  missed  it.  These  are  the  Mount  Mark  trouba- 
dours. You  are  lucky  to  get  here  in  time  for  the 
lemonade." 

But  when  she  saw  the  bishop  glance  concernedly 
'from  the  yellow  fingers  to  the  dull  eyes  and  the 
brown-streaked  mouth,  her  gravity  nearly  forsook 
her.  The  Slaughterers,  already  dashed  to  the 
ground  by  embarrassment,  were  entirely  routed  by 
the  presence  of  the  bishop.  With  incoherent  apolo- 
gies, they  rose  to  their  unsteady  feet  and  in  a  cloud 
of  breezy  odors,  made  their  escape. 

Mr.  Starr  laughed  a  little,  Aunt  Grace  put  her 
arm  protectingly  about  Carol's  rigid  shoulders,  and 
the  bishop  said,  "Well,  well,  well,"  with  gentle  in- 
quiry. 

"We  call  them  the  Slaughter-house  Quartette," 
Pairy  began  cheerfully.  "They  are  the  lower  strata 


THE  SERENADE  93 

of  Mount  Mark,  and  they  make  the  nights  hideous 
with  their  choice  selection  of  popular  airs.  The  par- 
sonage is  divided  about  them.  Some  of  us  think  we 
should  treat  them  with  proud  and  cold  disdain. 
Some  think  we  should  regard  them  with  a  tender, 
gentle,  er — smiling  pity.  And  evidently  they  ap- 
preciated the  smiles  for  they  gave  us  a  serenade  in 
return  for  them.  Aunt  Grace  did  not  know  their  his- 
tory, so  she  invited  them  in,  thinking  they  were  just 
ordinary  schoolboys.  It  is  home  mission  work  run 
aground." 

The  bishop  nodded  sympathetically.  "One  has  to 
be  so  careful,"  he  said.  "So  extremely  careful  with 
characters  like  those.  No  doubt  they  meant  well 
by  their  serenade,  but — girls  especially  have  to  be 
yery  careful.  I  think  as  a  rule  it  is  safer  to  let  men 
show  the  tender  pity  and  women  the  fine  disdain. 
I  don't  imagine  they  would  come  serenading  your 
father  and  me !  You  carried  it  off  beautifully,  girls. 
I  am  sure  your  father  was  proud  of  you.  I  was 
myself.  I'm  glad  you  are  Methodists.  Not  many 
girls  so  young  could  handle  a  difficult  matter  as 
neatly  as  you  did." 


94 

"Yes,"  said  Mr.  Starr,  but  his  eyes  twinkled  to- 
ward Carol  once  more;  "yes,  indeed,  I  think  we 
are  well  cleared  of  a  disagreeable  business." 

But  Carol  looked  at  Fairy  with  such  humble, 
passionate  gratitude  that  tears  came  to  Fairy's  eyes 
and  she  turned  quickly  away. 

"Carol  is  a  sweet  girl,"  she  thought.  "I  wonder 
if  things  will  work  out  for  her  just  right — to  make 
her  as  happy  as  she  ought  to  be.  She's  so — lovely." 


CHAPTER  VI 

SUBSTITUTION 

THE  twins  came  in  at  dinner-time  wrapped 
in  unwonted  silence.  Lark's  face  was  dark- 
ened by  an  anxious  shadow,  while  Carol  wore  an 
expression  of  heroic  determination.  They  sat  down 
to  the  table  without  a  word,  and  helped  themselves 
to  fish  balls  with  a  surprising  lack  of  interest. 

"What's  up?"  Connie  asked,  when  the  rest  of 
the  family  dismissed  the  matter  with  amused 
glances. 

Lark  sighed  and  looked  at  Carol,  seeming  to  seek 
courage  from  that  Spartan  countenance. 

Carol  squared  her  shoulders. 

"Well,  go  on,"  Connie  urged.  "Don't  be  silly. 
You  know  you're  crazy  to  tell  us  about  it,  you  only 
want  to  be  coaxed." 

Lark  sighed  again,  and  gazed  appealingly  at  her 
stout-hearted  twin.  Carol  never  could  resist  the 
appeal  of  those  pleading  eyes. 

95 


96  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

"Larkie  promised  to  speak  a  piece  at  the  Sunday- 
school  concert  two  weeks  from  to-morrow,"  she 
vouchsafed,  as  unconcernedly  as  possible. 

"Mercy!"  ejaculated  Connie,  with  an  astonish- 
ment that  was  not  altogether  complimentary. 

"Careful,  Larkie,"  cautioned  Fairy.  "You'll  dis- 
grace the  parsonage  if  you  don't  watch  out." 

"Nonsense,"  'declared  their  father,  "Lark  can 
speak  as  well  as  anybody  if  she  just  keeps  a  good 
grip  on  herself  and  doesn't  get  stage  fright." 

Aunt  Grace;  smiled  gently. 

Connie  frowned.  "It's  a  risky  business,"  she 
said.  "Lark  can't  speak  any  more  than  a  rabbit, 
and—" 

"I  know  it,"  was  the  humble  admission. 

"Don't  be  a  goose,  Con,"  interrupted  Carol.  "Of 
course  Lark  can  speak  a  piece.  She  must  learn  it, 
learn  it,  learn  it,  so  she  can  rattle  it  off  backwards 
with  her  eyes  shut.  Then  even  if  she  gets  scared, 
she  can  go  right  on  and  folks  won't  know  the  dif- 
ference. It  gets  to  be  a  habit  if  you  know  it  well 
enough.  That's  the  whole  secret.  Of  course  she 
can  speak." 

"How  did  it  happen  ?"  inquired  Fairy. 


SUBSTITUTION  97 

"I  don't  know,"  Lark  said  sorrowfully.  "Noth- 
ing was  ever  farther  from  my  thoughts,  I  assure 
you.  The  first  thing  I  knew,  Mrs.  Curtiss  was 
thanking  me  for  my  promise,  and  Carol  was  march- 
ing me  off  like  grim  death." 

Carol  smiled,  relieved  now  that  the  family  com- 
mentary was  over.  "It  was  very  natural.  Mrs. 
Curtiss  begged  her  to  do  it,  and  Lark  refuse^.  That 
always  happens,  every  time  the  Sunday-school  gives 
an  entertainment.  But  Mrs.  Curtiss  went  on  to 
say  how  badly  the  Sunday-school  needs  the  money, 
and  how  big  a  drawing  card  it  would  be  for  both 
of  us  twins  to  be  on  the  program,  one  right  after 
the  other,  and  how  well  it  would  look  for  the  par- 
sonage, and  it  never  occurred  to  me  to  warn  Lark, 
for  I  never  dreamed  of  her  doing  it.  And  all  of  a 
sudden  she  said,  'All  right,  then,  I'll  do  it,'  and 
Mrs.  Curtiss  gave  her  a  piece  and  we  came  home. 
But  I'm  not  worried  about  it.  Lark  can  do  any- 
thing if  she  only  tries." 

"I  thought  it  wouldn't  hurt  me  to  try  it  once," 
Lark  volunteered  in  her  own  defense. 

Aunt  Grace  nodded,  with  a  smile  of  interested 
approval. 


98  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

"I'm  proud  of  you,  Lark,  quite  proud  of  you/* 
her.  father  said  warmly.  "It's  a  big  thing  for  you 
to  make  such  a  plunge, — just  fine." 

"I'm  proud  of  you  now,  too,"  Connie  said  dark- 
ly. "The  question  is,  will  we  be  proud  of  you 
after  the  concert?" 

Lark  sighed  dolorously. 

"Oh,  pooh!"  encouraged  Carol.  "Anybody  can 
speak  a  silly  little  old  piece  like  that.  And  it  will 
look  so  nice  to  have  our  names  right  together  on 
the  program.  It'll  bring  out  all  the  high-school 
folks,  sure." 

"Yes,  they'll  come  to  hear  Lark  all  right,"  Fairy 
smiled.  "But  she'll  make  it  go,  of  course.  And  it 
will  give  Carol  a  chance  to  show  her  cleverness  by 
telling  her  how  to  do  it." 

So  as  soon  as  supper  was  over,  Carol  said  de- 
cidedly, "Now,  Connie,  you'll  have  to  help  me  with 
the  dishes  the  next  two  weeks,  for  Lark's  got  to 
practise  on  that  piece.  Lark,  you  must  read  it 
over,  very  thoughtfully  first  to  get  the  meaning. 
Then  just  read  it  and  read  it  and  read  it,  a  dozen 
times,  a  hundred  times,  over  and  over  and  over. 
!A"nd  pretty  soon  you'll  know  it." 


SUBSTITUTION  99 

"I'll  bet  I  don't,"  was  the  discouraging  retort,  as 
Lark,  with  pronounced  distaste,  took  the  slip  of 
paper  and  sat  down  in  the  corner  to  read  the 
"blooming  thing,"  as  she  muttered  crossly  to  her- 
self. 

Connie  and  Carol  did  up  the  dishes  in  dreadful 
silence,  and  then  Carol  returned  to  the  charge. 
"Plow  many  times  did  you  read  it?" 

"Fourteen  and  a  half,"  was  the  patient  answer. 
"It's  a  silly  thing,  Carol.  There's  no  sense  to  it. 
'The  wind  went  drifting  o'er  the  lea/  * 

"Oh,  that's  not  so  bad,"  Carol  said  helpfully. 
"I've  had  pieces  with  worse  lines  than  that.  'The 
imprint  of  a  dainty  foot,'  for  instance.  When  you 
say,  'The  wind  went  drifting  o'er  the  lea,'  you 
must  kind  of  let  your  voice  glide  along,  very  rhyth- 
mically, very — " 

"Windily,"  suggested  Connie,  who  remained  to 
witness  the  exhibition. 

"You  keep  still,  Constance  Starr,  or  you  can  get 
out  of  here!  It's  no  laughing  matter  I  can  tell  you, 
and  you  have  to  keep  out  or  I  won't  help  and 
then—" 

"I'll  keep  still.     But  it  ought  to  be  windily  you 


IOQ  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

know,  since  it's  the  wind.  I  meant  it  for  a  joke," 
she  informed  them.  The  twins  had  a  very  dis- 
heartening way  of  failing  to  recognize  Connie's 
jokes — it  took  the  life  out  of  them. 

"Now  read  it  aloud,  Lark,  so  I  can  see  if  you  get 
the  proper  expression,"  Carol  continued,  when  Con- 
nie was  utterly  subdued. 

Lark  obediently  but  unhappily  read  the  quaint 
poem  aloud  and  Carol  said  it  was  very  good.  "You 
must  read  it  aloud  often,  very  often.  That'll  give 
you  a  better  idea  of  the  accent.  Now  put  it  away, 
and  don't  look  at  it  again  to-night.  If  you  keep  it 
up  too  long  you'll  get  so  dead  sick  of  it  you  can't 
speak  it  at  all." 

For  two  entire  weeks,  the  twins  were  change<i 
creatures.  Lark  read  the  "blooming  piece"  avidly, 
repeatedly  and  with  bitter  hate.  Carol  stood  grim- 
ly by,  listening  intently,  offering  curt  apt  criticisms. 
Finally,  Lark  "knew  it,"  and  the  rest  of  the  time 
was  spent  in  practising  before  the  mirror, — to  see 
if  she  kept  her  face  pleasant. 

"For  the  face  has  a  whole  lot  to  do  with  it,  my 
dear,"  said  Carol  sagely,  "though  the  critics  would 
never  admit  it." 


SUBSTITUTION  101 

By  the  evening  of  the  Sunday-school  concert — 
they  were  concerting  for  the  sake  of  a  hundred- 
dollar  subscription  to  church  repairs — Lark  had 
mastered  her  recitation  so  perfectly  that  the  minds 
of  the  parsonage  were  nearly  at  peace.  She  still  felt 
a  deep  resentment  toward  the  situation,  but  this 
was  partially  counterbalanced  by  the  satisfaction  of 
seeing  her  name  in  print,  directly  beneath  Carol's 
on  the  program. 

"Recitation Miss  Carol  Starr. 

Recitation Miss  Lark  Starr." 

It  looked  very  well  indeed,  and  the  whole  family 
took  a  proper  interest  in  it.  No  one  gave  Carol's 
recitation  a  second  thought.  She  always  recited, 
and  did  it  easily  and  well.  It  was  quite  a  common- 
place occurrence  for  her. 

On  the  night  of  the  concert  she  superintended 
Lark's  dressing  with  maternal  care.  "You  look  all 
right,"  she  said,  "just  fine.  Now  don't  get  scared, 
Lark.  It's  so  silly.  Remember  that  you  know  all 
those  people  by  heart,  you  can  talk  a  blue  streak  to 
any  of  them.  There's  no  use — " 

"But   I   can't   talk  a  blue  streak   to  the  whole 


102  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

houseful  at  once,"  Lark  protested.  "It  makes  me 
have  such  a — hollow  feeling — to  see  so  many  white 
faces  gazing  up,  and  it's  hot,  and — " 

"Stop  that,"  came  the  stern  command.  Wou 
don't  want  to  get  cold  feet  before  you  start.  If 
you  do  accidentally  forget  once  or  twice,  don't 
worry.  I  know  the  piece  as  well  as  you  do,  and  I 
can  prompt  you  from  behind  without  any  one  no- 
ticing it.  At  first  it  made  me  awfully  cross  when 
they  wanted  us  reciters  to  sit  on  the  platform  for 
every  one  to  stare  at.  But  now  I'm  glad  of  it.  I'll 
be  right  beside  you,  and  can  prompt  you  without 
any  trouble  at  all.  But  you  won't  forget."  She 
kissed  her.  "You'll  do  fine,  Larkie,  just  as  fine  as 
you  look,  and  it  couldn't  be  better  than  that." 

Just  then  Connie  ran  in.  "Fairy  wants  to  know 
if  you  are  getting  stage  fright,  Lark?  My,  you  do 
look  nice !  Now,  for  goodness'  sake,  Lark,  remem- 
ber the  parsonage,  and  don't  make  a  fizzle  of  it." 

"Who  says  fizzle?"  demanded  their  father  from 
the  doorway.  "Never  say  die,  my  girl.  Why, 
Lark,  I  never  saw  you  look  so  sweet.  You  have 
your  hair  fixed  a  new  way,  haven't  you  ?" 

"Carol  did  it,"  was  the  shy  reply.     "It  does  look 


SUBSTITUTION  103 

nice,  doesn't  it  ?  I'm  not  scared,  father,  not  a  bit — 
yet!  But  there's  a  hollow  feeling — " 

"Get  her  an  apple,  Connie,"  said  Carol.  "It's  be- 
cause she  didn't  eat  any  supper.  She's  not  scared." 

"I  don't  want  an  apple.  Come  on,  let's  go  down. 
Have  the  boys  come?" 

"No,  but  they'll  be  here  in  a  minute.  Jim's  never 
late.  I  do  get  sore  at  Jim — I'd  forty  times  rather 
go  with  him  than  Hartley — but  he  always  puts  off 
asking  us  until  the  last  minute  and  then  I  have  a 
date  and  you  get  him.  I  believe  he  does  it  on  pur- 
pose. Come  on  down." 

Aunt  Grace  looked  at  the  pale  sweet  face  with' 
gratified  delight,  and  kissed  her  warmly.  Her  father 
walked  around  her,  nodding  approval. 

"You  look  like  a  dream,"  he  said.  "The  wind 
a-drifting  o'er  the  lea  ne'er  blew  upon  a  fairer 
sight !  You  shall  walk  with  me." 

"Oh,  father,  you  can't  remember  that  you're  ob- 
solete," laughed  Fairy.  "The  twins  have  attained 
to  the  dignity  of  boys,  and  aren't  satisfied  with  the 
fond  but  sober  arm  of  father  any  more.  Our  little 
twins  have  dates  to-night,  as  usual  nowadays." 

"Aunt  Grace,"  he  said  solemnly,  "it's  a  wretched 


104  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

business,  having  a  parsonage  full  of  daughters. 
Just  as  soon  as  they  reach  the  age  of  beauty,  grace 
and  charm,  they  turn  their  backs  on  their  fathers 
and  smile  on  fairer  lads." 

"You've  got  me,  father,"  said  Connie  consol- 
ingly. 

"And  me, — when  Babbie's  in  Chicago,"  added 
Fairy. 

"Yes,  that's  some  help.  Connie,  be  an  old  maid. 
Do!  I  implore  you." 

"Oh,  Connie's  got  a  beau  already,"  said  Carol. 
"It's  the  fat  Allen  boy.  They  don't  have  dates  yet, 
but  they've  got  an  awful  case  on.  He's  going  to 
make  their  living  by  traveling  with  a  show.  You'll 
have  to  put  up  with  auntie — she's  beyond  the  beau- 
ing  stage !" 

"Suits  me,"  he  said  contentedly,  "I  am  getting 
more  than  my  deserts.  Come  on,  Grace,  we'll  start." 

"So  will  we,  Connie,"  said  Fairy. 

But  the  boys  came,  both  together,  and  the  family 
group  set  out  together.  Carol  and  Hartley — one  of 
her  high-school  admirers — led  off  by  running  a 
race  down  the  parsonage  walk.  And  Lark,  old, 


SUBSTITUTION  10$ 

worn  and  grave,  brought  up  the  rear  with  Jim  For- 
rest. Jim  was  a  favorite  attendant  of  the  twins. 
He  had  been  graduated  from  high  school  the  year 
previous,  and  was  finishing  off  at  the  agricultural 
college  in  Ames.  But  Ames  was  not  far  from  home, 
and  he  was  still  frequently  on  hand  to  squire  the 
twins  when  squires  were  in  demand.  He  was  curi- 
ously generous  and  impartial  In  his  attentions, — it 
was  this  which  so  endeared  him  to  the  twins.  He 
made  his  dates  by  telephone,  invariably.  And  the 
conversations  might  almost  have  been  decreed  by 
law. 

"May  I  speak  to  one  of  the  twins  ?" 

The  nearest  twin  was  summoned,  and  then  he 
asked : 

"Have  you  twins  got  dates  for  the  ball  game?" 
— or  the  party,  or  the  concert. 

And  the  twin  at  the  telephone  would  say,  "Yes,  we 
both  have — hard  luck,  Jim."  Or,  "I  have,  but  Carol 
hasn't."  Sometimes  it  was,  "No,  we  haven't,  but 
we're  just  crazy  to  go."  And  in  reply  to  the  first 
Jim  always  answered,  "That's  a  shame, — why 
didn't  you  remember  me  and  hold  off?"  And  to 


io6  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

the  second,  "Well,  ask  her  if  I  can  come  around 
for  her."  And  to  the  third,  "Good,  let's  all  go 
together  and  have  a  celebration." 

For  this  broad-minded  devotion  the  twins  gave 
him  a  deep-seated  gratitude  and  affection  and  he 
always  stood  high  in  their  favor. 

On  this  occasion  Carol  had  answered  the  tele-< 
phone,  and  in  reply  to  his  query  she  answered 
crossly,  "Oh,  Jim,  you  stupid  thing,  why  didn't  you 
phone  yesterday?  I  would  so  much  rather  go  with 
you  than —  But  never  mind.  I  have  a  date,  but  Lark 
hasn't.  And  you  just  called  in  time,  too,  for  Har- 
vey Lane  told  Hartley  he  was  going  to  ask  for  a 
date." 

And  Jim  had  called  back  excitedly,  "Bring  her  to 
the  phone,  quick ;  don't  waste  a  minute."  And  Lark 
was  called,  and  the  date  was  duly  scheduled. 

"Are  you  scared,  Lark?"  he  asked  her  as  they 
walked  slowly  down  the  street  toward  the  church. 

"I'm  not  scared,  Jim,"  she  answered  solemnly, 
"but  I'm  perfectly  cavernous,  if  you  know  what 
that  means." 

"I  sure  'do  know,"  he  said  fervently,  "didn't  I 


SUBSTITUTION  107 

have  to  do  a  speech  at  the  commencement  exer- 
cises? There  never  was  a  completer  cavern  than  I 
was  that  night.  But  I  can't  figure  out  why  folks 
agree  to  do  such  things  when  they  don't  have  to.  I 
had  to.  It  was  compulsory." 

Lark  gazed  at  him  with  limpid  troubled  eyes.  "I 
can't  figure  out,  either.  I  don't  know  why  I  did. 
It  was  a  mistake,  some  way." 

At  the  church,  which  was  gratifyingly  crowded 
with  Sunday-school  enthusiasts,  the  twins  forsook 
their  friends  and  slipped  along  the  side  aisle  to  the 
"dressing-room," — commonly  utilized  as  the  store 
room  for  worn-out  song  books,  Bibles  and  lesson 
sheets.  There  they  sat  in  throbbing,  quivering  si- 
lence with  the  rest  of  the  "entertainers,"  until  the 
first  strains  of  the  piano  solo  broke  forth,  when  they 
walked  sedately  out  and  took  their  seats  along  the 
side  of  the-  platform — an  antediluvian  custom 
which  has  long  been  discarded  by  everything  but 
Sunday-schools  and  graduating  classes. 

Printed  programs  had  been  distributed,  but  the 
superintendent  called  off  the  numbers  also.  Not  be- 
cause it  was  necessary,  but  because  superintendents 


io8  PRUDENCE  'SAYS  SO 

have  to  do  something  on  such  occasions  and  that  is 
the  only  way  to  prevent  superfluous  speech-making. 

The  program  went  along  smoothly,  with  no  more 
stumbles  than  is  customary  at  such  affairs,  and 
nicely  punctuated  with  hand  clappings.  When  the 
superintendent  read,  "Recitation — Miss  Carol 
Starr,"  the  applause  was  enthusiastic,  for  Carol 
was  a  prime  favorite  in  church  and  school  and 
town.  With  sweet  and  charming  nonchalance  she 
tripped  to  the  front  of  the  platform  and  gave  a 
graceful  inclination  of  her  proud  young  head  in 
response  to  the  applause.  Then  her  voice  rang  out, 
and  the  room  was  hushed.  Nobody  ever  worried 
when  Carol  spoke  a  piece.  Things  always  went  all 
right.  And  back  to  her  place  she  walked,  her  face 
flushed,  her  heart  swelling  high  with  the  gratifica- 
tion of  a  good  deed  well  done. 

She  sat  down  by  Lark,  glad  she  had  done  it,  glad 
it  was  over,  and  praying  that  Lark  would  come  off 
as  well. 

Lark  was  trembling. 

"Carol,"  she  whispered,  "I — I'm  scared." 

Instantly  the  triumph  left  Carol's  heart.  "You're 


SUBSTITUTION  109 

not,"  she  whispered  passionately,  gripping  her 
twin's  hand  closely,  "you  are  not,  you're  all  right." 

Lark  trembled  more  violently.  Her  head  swayed 
a  little.  Bright  flashes  of  light  were  blinding  her 
eyes,  and  her  ears  were  ringing.  "I — can't,"  she 
muttered  thickly.  "I'm  sick." 

Carol  leaned  close  to  her  and  began  a  violent 
train  of  conversation,  for  the  purpose  of  distract- 
ing her  attention.  Lark  grew  more  pale. 

"Recitation — Miss  Lark  Starr." 

Again  the  applause  rang  out. 

Lark  did  not  move.  "I  can't,"  she  whispered 
again.  "I  can't." 

"Lark,  Lark,"  begged  Carol  desperately.  "You 
must  go,  you  must.  'The  wind  went  drifting  o'er 
the  lea,' — it's  easy  enough.  Go  on,  Lark.  You 
must." 

Lark  shook  her  head.  "Mmmmm,"  she  murmur- 
ed indistinctly. 

"Remember  the  parsonage,"  begged  Carol. 
"Think  of  Prudence.  Think  of  papa.  Look,  there 
he  is,  right  down  there.  He's  expecting  you,  Lark. 
You  must!" 


no  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

\ 
Lark  tried  to  rise.     She  could  not.     She  could 

'not  see  her  father's  clear  encouraging  face  for 
those  queer  flashes  of  light. 

"You  can,"  whispered  Carol.  "You  can  do  any- 
thing if  you  try.  Prudence  says  so." 

People  were  craning  their  necks,  and  peering 
curiously  up  to  the  second  row  where  the  twins  sat 
side  by  side.  The  other  performers  nudged  one 
another,  smiling  significantly.  The  superintendent 
creaked  heavily  across  the  platform  and  beckoned 
with  one  plump  finger. 

"I  can't,"  Lark  whispered,  "I'm  sick." 

"Lark, — Lark,"  called  the  superintendent. 

Carol  sighed  bitterly.  Evidently  it  was  up  to 
her.  With  a  grim  face,  she  rose  from  her  chair 
and  started  out  on  the  platform.  The  superin- 
tendent stared  at  her,  his  lips  parting.  The  people 
stared  at  her  too,  and  smiled,  and  then  laughed. 
Panic-stricken,  her  eyes  sought  her  father's  face. 
He  nodded  quickly,  and  his  eyes  approved. 

"Good!"  His  lips  formed  the  word,  and  Carol 
did  not  falter  again.  The  applause  was  nearly 
drowned  with  laughter  as  Carol  advanced  for  her 
second  recitation. 


SUBSTITUTION  in 

"The  wind  went  drifting  o'er  the  lea,"  she  began, 
— her  voice  drifting  properly  on  the  words, — and 
so  on  to  the  end  of  the  piece. 

Most  of  the  audience,  knowing  Lark's  tempera- 
ment, had  concluded  that  fear  prevented  her  ap- 
pearance, and  understood  that  Carol  had  come  to 
her  twin's  rescue  for  the  reputation  of  the  parson- 
age. The  applause  was  deafening  as  she  went  back. 
It  grew  louder  as  she  sat  down  with  a  comforting 
little  grin  at  Lark.  Then  as  the  clapping  continued, 
something  of  her  natural  impishness  entered  her 
heart. 

"Lark,"  she  whispered,  "go  out  and  make  a 
bow." 

"Mercy!"  gasped  Lark.     "I  didn't  do  anything." 

"It  was  supposed  to  be  you — go  on,  Lark! 
Hurry !  You've  got  to !  Think  what  a  joke  it  will 
be." 

Lark  hesitated,  but  Carol's  dominance  was  com- 
pelling. 

"Do  as  I  tell  you,"  came  the  peremptory  order, 
and  Lark  arose  from  her  chair,  stepped  out  before 
the  astonished  audience  and  made  a  slow  and  grace- 
ful bow. 


H2  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

This  time  the  applause  ran  riot,  for  people  of 
less  experience  than  those  of  Mount  Mark  could  tell 
that  the  twins  were  playing  game.  As  it  continued, 
Carol  caught  Larkin's  hand  in  hers,  and  together 
they  stepped  out  once  more,  laughing  and  bowing 
right  and  left. 

Lark  was  the  last  one  in  that  night,  for  she  and 
Jim  celebrated  her  defeat  with  two  ice-cream  sodas 
a  piece  at  the  corner  drug  store. 

"I  disgraced  the  parsonage,"  she  said  meekly,  as 
she  stepped  into  the  family  circle,  waiting  to  receive 
her. 

"Indeed  you  didn't,"  said  Fairy.  "It  was  too 
bad,  but  Carol  passed  it  off  nicely,  and  then,  turn- 
ing it  into  a  joke  that  way  took  all  the  embarrass- 
ment out  of  it.  It  was  perfectly  all  right,  and  we 
weren't  a  bit  ashamed." 

"And  you  did  look  awfully  sweet  when  you  made 
your  bow,"  Connie  said  warmly, — for  when  a 
member  of  the  family  was  down,  no  one  ventured 
a  laugh,  laugh-loving  though  they  were. 

Curious  to  say,  the  odd  little  freak  of  substitu- 
tion only  endeared  the  twins  to  the  people  of  Mount 
Mark  the  more. 


SUBSTITUTION  113 

"By  ginger,  you  can't  beat  them  bloomin'  twins," 
said  Harvey  Reel,  chuckling  admiringly.  And  no 
one  disagreed. 


CHAPTER  VII 

MAKING  MATCHES 

AUNT  GRACE  sat  in  a  low  rocker  with  a  bit 
of  embroidery  in  her  hands.  And  Fairy  sat 
at  the  table,  a  formidable  array  of  books  before 
her.  Aunt  Grace  was  gazing  idly  at  her  sewing 
basket,  a  soft  smile  on  her  lips.  And  Fairy  was 
staring  thoughtfully  into  the  twilight,  a  soft  glow 
in  her  eyes.  Aunt  Grace  was  thinking  of  the  jolly 
parsonage  family,  and  how  pleasant  it  was  to  live 
with  them.  And  Fairy  was  thinking — ah,  Fairy 
was  twenty,  and  twenty-year-olds  always  stare  into 
the  twilight,  with  dreamy  far-seeing  eyes. 

In  upon  this  peaceful  scene  burst  the  twins, 
flushed,  tempestuous,  in  spite  of  their  seventeen 
years.  Their  hurry  to  speak  had  rendered  them  in- 
capable of  speech,  so  they  stood  in  the  doorway 
panting  breathlessly  for  a  moment,  while  Fairy  and 
her  aunt,  withdrawn  thus  rudely  from  dreamland, 
looked  at  them  interrogatively. 

114 


MAKING  MATCHES  115 

"Yes,  I  think  so,  too,"  began  Fairy,  and  the  twins 
endeavored  to  crush  her  with  their  lofty  scorn.  But 
it  is  not  easy  to  express  lofty  scorn  when  one  is 
red  in  the  face,  perspirey  and  short  of  breath.  So 
the  twins  decided  of  necessity  to  overlook  the 
offense  just  this  once. 

Finally,  recovering  their  vocal  powers  simul- 
taneously, they  cried  in  unison  : 

"Duckie!" 

"Duck!  In  the  yard!  Do  you  mean  a  live  one? 
Where  did  it  come  from?"  ejaculated  their  aunt. 

"They  mean  Professor  Duck  of  their  freshman 
year,"  explained  Fairy  complacently.  "It's  noth- 
ing. The  twins  always  make  a  fuss  over  him.  They 
feel  grateful  to  him  for  showing  them  through 
freshman  science — that's  all." 

"That's  all,"  gasped  Carol.  "Why,  Fairy  Starr, 
do  you  know  he's  employed  by  the — Society  of — 
a — a  Scientific  Research  Organization — or  some- 
thing— in  New  York  City,  and  gets  four  thousand 
dollars  a  year  and  has  prospects — all  kinds  of  pros- 
pects !" 

"Yes,  I  know  it.  You  haven't  seen  him,  auntie. 
He's  tall,  and  has  wrinkles  around  his  eyes,  and  a 


ii6  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

(dictatorial  nose,  and  steel  gray  eyes.  He  calls  the 
twins  song-birds,  and  they're  so  flattered  they  adore 
him.  He  sends  them  candy  for  Christmas.  You 
know  that  Duckie  they  rave  so  much  about.  It's 
the  very  man.  Is  he  here?" 

The  twins  stared  at  each  other  in  blank  exaspera- 
tion for  a  full  minute.  They  knew  that  Fairy  didn't 
'deserve  to  hear  their  news,  but  at  the  same  time  they 
did  not  deserve  such  bitter  punishment  as  having 
to  refrain  from  talking  about  it, — so  they  swal- 
lowed again,  sadly,  and  ignored  her. 

"He's  in  town,"  said  Lark. 

"Going  to  stay  a  week,"  added  Carol. 
.  "And  he  said  he  wanted  to  have  lots  of  good 
times  with  us,  and  so — we — why,  of  course  it  was 
very  sudden,  and  we  'didn't  have  time  to  ask — " 

"But  parsonage  doors  are  always  open — " 

"And  I  don't  know  how  he  ever  wormed  it  out 
of  us,  but — one  of  us — " 

"I  can't  remember  which  one!" 

"Invited  him  to  come  for  dinner  to-night,  and  he's 
coming." 

"Goodness,"  said  Aunt  Grace.  "We  were  going 
to  have  potato  soup  and  toast." 


MAKING  MATCHES  1 1 7 

"It'll  keep,"  said  Carol.  "Of  course  we're  sorry 
to  inconvenience  you  at  this  late  hour,  but  Larkie 
and  I  will  tell  Connie  what  to  do,  so  you  won't  have 
much  bother.  Let's  see,  now,  we  must  think  up  a 
pretty  fair  meal.  Four  thousand  a  year — and  pros- 
pects !" 

Aunt  Grace  turned  questioning  eyes  toward  the 
older  sister. 

"All  right,"  said  Fairy,  smiling.  "It's  evident- 
ly settled.  Think  up  your  menu,  twins,  and  put 
Connie  to  work." 

"Is  he  nice?"  Aunt  Grace  queried. 

"Yes,  I  think  he  is.  He  used  to  go  with  our  col- 
lege bunch  some.  I  know  him  pretty  well.  He 
brought  me  home  from  things  a  time  or  two." 

Carol  leaned  forward  and  looked  at  her  hand- 
some sister  with  sudden  intentness.  "He  asked 
about  you,"  she  said,  keen  eyes  on  Fairy's.  "He 
asked  particularly  about  you." 

"Did  he?  Thanks.  Yes,  he's  not  bad.  He's 
pretty  good  in  a  crowd." 

By  the  force  of  her  magnetic  gaze,  Carol  drew 
Lark  out  of  the  room,  and  the  door  closed  behind 
them.  A  few  minutes  later  they  returned.  There 


n8  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

was  about  them  an  air  of  subdued  excitement,  sug- 
gestive of  intrigue,  that  Fairy  found  disturbing. 

"You  needn't  plan  any  nonsense,  twins,"  she  cau- 
tioned. "He's  no  beau  of  mine." 

"Of  course  not,"  they  assured  her  pleasantly. 
"We're  too  old  for  mischief.  Seventeen,  and  sen- 
sible for  our  years!  Say,  Fairy,  you'll  be  nice  to 
Duckie,  wotft  you?  We're  too  young  really  to  en- 
tertain him,  and  he's  so  nice  we  want  him  to  have  a 
good  time.  Can't  you  try  to  make  it  pleasant  for 
him  this  week?  He'll  only  be  here  a  few  days.  Will 
you  do  that  much  for  us?" 

"Why,  I  would,  twins,  of  course,  to  oblige  you, 
but  you  know  Gene's  in  town  this  week,  and  I've 
got  to — " 

"Oh,  you  leave  Babbie— Gene,  I  mean — to  us," 
said  Carol  airily.  Fairy  being  a  junior  in  college, 
and  Eugene  Babler  a  student  of  pharmacy  in  Chi- 
cago, she  felt  obliged  to  restore  him  to  his  Christian 
name,  shortened  to  Gene.  But  the  twins  refused 
to  accede  to  this  propriety,  except  when  they  par- 
ticularly wished  to  placate  Fairy. 

"You  leave  Gene  to  us,"  repeated  Carol.  "We'll 
amuse  him.  Is  he  coming  to-night?" 


MAKING  MATCHES  119 

"Yes,  at  seven-thirty." 

"Let's  call  him  up  and  invite  him  for  dinner,  too," 
suggested  Lark.  "And  you'll  do  us  a  favor  and  be 
nice  to  Duckie,  won't  you?  We'll  keep  Babb — er, 
Gene — out  of  the  road.  You  phone  to  Gene,  Carol, 
and—" 

"I'll  do  my  own  phoning,  thanks,"  said  Fairy,  ris- 
ing quickly.  "Yes,  we'll  have  them  both.  And  just 
as  a  favor  to  you,  twins,  I  will  help  amuse  your  pro- 
fessor. You'll  be  good,  and  help,  won't  you?" 

The  twins  glowed  at  Fairy  with  a  warmth  that 
seemed  almost  triumphant.  She  stopped  and  looked 
at  them  doubtfully.  When  she  returned  after  tele- 
phoning, they  were  gone,  and  she  said  to  her  aunt : 

"I'm  not  superstitious,  but  when  the  twins  act 
like  that,  there's  usually  a  cloud  in  the  parsonage 
sky-light.  Prudence  says  so." 

But  the  twins  comported  themselves  most  decor^ 
ously.  All  during  the  week  they  worked  like  kit- 
chen slaveys,  doing  chores,  running  errands.  And 
they  treated  Fairy  with  a  gentle  consideration 
which  almost  drew  tears  to  her  eyes,  though  she 
still  remembered  Prudence's  cloud  in  the  parsonage 
sky-light ! 


120  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

They  certainly  interfered  with  her  own  plans. 
They  engineered  her  off  on  to  their  beloved  profes- 
sor at  every  conceivable  turn.  And  Gene,  who 
nearly  haunted  the  house,  had  a  savage  gleam  in  his 
eyes  quite  out  of  accord  with  his  usual  chatty  good 
humor.  Fairy  knew  she  was  being  adroitly  man- 
aged, but  she  had  promised  to  help  the  twins  with 
"Duckie."  At  first  she  tried  artistically  and  un- 
obtrusively to  free  herself  from  the  complication 
in  which  her  sisters  had  involved  her.  But  the 
twins  were  both  persistent  and  clever,  and  Fairy 
found  herself  no  match  for  them  when  it  came  right 
down  to  business.  She  had  no  idea  of  their  pur- 
pose,— she  only  knew  that  she  and  Gene  were  ali 
ways  on  opposite  sides  of  the  room,  the  young  man 
grinning  savagely  at  the  twins'  merry  prattle,  and 
she  and  the  professor  trying  to  keep  quiet  enough 
to  hear  every  word  from  the  other  corner.  And  if 
they  walked,  Gene  was  dragged  off  by  the  firm 
slender  fingers  of  the  friendly  twins,  and  Fairy 
and  the  professor  walked  drearily  along  in  the 
rear,  talking  inanely  about  the  weather, — and  won- 
dering what  the  twins  were  talking  about. 

And  the  week  passed.    Gene  finally  fell  off  in  his 


MAKING  MATCHES  121 

attendance,  and  the  twins  took  a  much  needed  rest. 
On  Friday  afternoon  they  flattered  themselves  that 
all  was  well.  Gene  was  not  coming,  Fairy  was  in 
the  hammock  waiting  for  the  professor.  So  the 
twins  hugged  each  other  gleefully  and  went  to  the 
haymow  to  discuss  the  strain  and  struggle  of  the 
week.  And  then — 

"Why,  the  big  mutt !"  cried  Carol,  in  her  annoy- 
ance ignoring  the  Methodist  grammatical  bound- 
aries, "here  comes  that  bubbling  Babler  this  min- 
ute. And  he  said  he  was  going  to  New  London  for 
the  day.  Now  we'll  have  to  chase  down  there  and 
shoo  him  off  before  Duckie  conies."  The  twins, 
growling  and  grumbling,  gathered  themselves  up 
and  started.  But  they  started  too  reluctantly,  too 
leisurely.  They  were  not  in  time. 

Fairy  sat  up  in  the  hammock  with  a  cry  of  sur- 
prise, but  not  vexation,  when  Gene's  angry  coun- 
tenance appeared  before  her. 

"Look  here,  Fairy,"  he  began,  "what's  the  joke? 
Are  your  fingers  itching  to  get  hold  of  that  four 
thousand  a  year  the  twins  are  eternally  bragging 
about?  Are  you  trying  to  throw  yourself  into  the 
old  school-teacher's  pocketbook,  or  what?." 


122 

"Don't  be  silly,  Gene,"  she  said,  "come  and  sit 
down  and — " 

"Sit  down,  your  grandmother!"  he  snapped  still 
angrily.  "Old  Double  D.  D.  will  be  bobbing  up  in  a 
minute,  and  the  twins'll  drag  me  off  to  hear  about 
a  sick  rooster,  or  something.  He  is  coming,  isn't 
he?" 

"I — guess  he  is,"  she  said  confusedly. 

"Let's  cut  and  run,  will  you?"  he  suggested 
hopefully.  "We  can  be  out  of  sight  before —  Come 
on,  Fairy,  be  good  to  me.  I  haven't  had  a  glimpse 
or  a  touch  of  you  the  whole  week.  What  do  you 
reckon  I  came  down  here  for?  Come  on.  Let's 
beat  it."  He  looked  around  with  a  worried  air. 
"Hurry,  or  the  twins'll  get  us." 

Fairy  hesitated,  and  was  lost.  Gene  grabbed  her 
hand,  and  the  next  instant,  laughing,  they  were 
crawling  under  the  fence  at  the  south  corner  of  the 
parsonage  lawn  just  as  the  twins  appeared  at  the 
barn  door.  They  stopped.  They  gasped.  They 
stared  at  each  other  in  dismay. 

"It  was  a  put-up  job,"  declared  Carol. 

"Now  what'll  we  ido?.     But  Babbie's  got  mor.e 


MAKING  MATCHES  123 

sense  than  I  thought  he  had,  I  must  confess.  Do 
you  suppose  he  was  kidnaping  her?" 

Carol  snorted  derisively.  "Kidnaping  nothing! 
She  was  ahead  when  I  saw  'cm.  What'll  we  tell  the 
professor?" 

Two  humbled  gentle  twins  greeted  the  professor 
some  fifteen  minutes  later. 

"We're  so  sorry,"  Carol  explained  faintly.  "Bab- 
bie came  and  he  and  Fairy — I  guess  they  had  an 
errand  somewhere.  We  think  they'll  be  back  very 
soon.  Fairy  will  be  so  sorry." 

The  professor  smiled  and  looked  quite  bright. 

"Are  they  gone?" 

"Yes,  but  we're  sure  they'll  be  back, — that  is, 
we're  almost  sure."  Carol,  remembering  the  mode 
of  their  departure,  felt  far  less  assurance  on  that 
point  than  she  could  have  wished. 

"Well,  that's  too  bad,"  he  said  cheerfully.  "But 
my  loss  is  Babler's  gain.  I  suppose  we  ought  in 
Christian  decency  to  give  him  the  afternoon.  Let's 
go  out  to  the  creek  for  a  stroll  ourselves,  shall  we? 
That'll  leave  him  a  clear  field  when  they  return. 
You  think  they'll  be  back  soon,  do  you?" 


124  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

He  looked  down  the  road  hopefully,  but  whether 
hopeful  they  would  return,  or  wouldn't,  the  twins 
could  not  have  told.  At  any  rate,  he  seemed  quite 
impatient  until  they  were  ready  to  start,  and  then, 
very  gaily,  the  three  wended  their  way  out  the 
pretty  country  road  toward  the  creek  and  Black- 
bird Lane.  They  had  a  good  time,  the  twins  always 
did  insist  that  no  one  on  earth  was  quite  so  enter- 
taining as  dear  old  Duckie,  but  in  her  heart  Carol 
registered  a  solemn  vow  to  have  it  out  with  Fairy 
when  she  got  back.  She  had  no  opportunity  that 
night.  Fairy  and  Gene  telephoned  that  they  would 
not  be  home  for  dinner,  and  the  professor  had  gone, 
and  the  twins  were  sleeping  soundly,  when  Fairy 
crept  softly  up  the  stairs. 

But  Carol  did  not  forget  her  vow.  Early  the 
next  morning  she  stalked  grimly  into  Fairy's  room, 
where  Fairy  was  conscientiously  bringing  order  out 
of  the  chaos  in  her  bureau  drawers,  a  thing  Fairy 
always  did  after  a  perfectly  happy  day.  Carol  knew 
that,  and  it  was  with  genuine  reproach  in  her  voice 
that  she  spoke  at  last,  after  standing  for  some  two 
minutes  watching  Fairy  as  she  deftly  twirled  long 


MAKING  MATCHES  125 

ribbons  about  her  fingers  and  then  laid  them  in 
methodical  piles  in  separate  corners  of  the  draw- 
ers. 

"Fairy,"  she  said  sadly,  "you  don't  seem  very 
appreciative  some  way.  Here  Larkie  and  I  have 
tried  so  hard  to  give  you  a  genuine  opportunity — 
we've  worked  and  schemed  and  kept  ourselves  in 
the  background,  and  that's  the  way  you  serve  us! 
It's  disappointing.  It's  downright  disheartening." 

Fairy  folded  a  blue  veil  and  laid  it  on  top  of  a 
white  one.  Then  she  turned.  "Yes.  What?"  She 
inquired  coolly. 

"There  are  so  few  real  chances  for  a  woman  in 
Mount  Mark,  and  we  felt  that  this  was  once  in  a 
lifetime.  And  you  know  how  hard  we  worked. 
And  then,  when  we  relaxed  our — our  vigilance — • 
just  for  a  moment,  you  spoiled  it  all  by — " 

"Yes, — talk  English,  Carrie.  What  was  it  you 
tried  to  do  for  me?" 

"Well,  if  you  want  plain  English  you  can  have 
it,"  said  Carol  heatedly.  "You  know  what  pro- 
fessor is,  a  swell  position  like  his,  and  such  pros- 
pects, and  New  York  City,  and  four  thousand  a 


126  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

year  with  a  raise  for  next  year,  and  we  tried  to 
give  you  a  good  fair  chance  to  land  him  squarely, 
and—" 

"To  land  him—" 

"To  get  him,  then!  He  hasn't  any  girl.  You 
could  have  been  engaged  to  him  this  minute — Pro- 
fessor David  Arnold  Duke — if  you  had  wanted  to." 

"Oh,  is  that  it?" 

"Yes,  that's  it." 

Fairy  smiled.  "Thank  you,  dear,  it  was  sweet 
of  you,  but  you're  too  late.  I  am  engaged." 

Carol's  lips  parted,  closed,  parted  again.  "You 
—you?" 

"Exactly  so." 

Hope  flashed  into  Carol's  eyes.  Fairy  saw  it, 
and  answered  swiftly. 

"Certainly  not.  I'm  not  crazy  about  your  little 
Prof.  I  am  engaged  to  Eugene  Babler."  She  said 
it  with  pride,  not  unmixed  with  defiance,  knowing 
as  she  did  that  the  twins  considered  Gene  too  un- 
dignified for  a  parsonage  son-in-law.  The  twins 
were  strong  for  parsonage  dignity! 

"You— are?" 

"I  am." 


MAKING  MATCHES  127 

A  long  instant  Carol  stared  at  her.  Then  she 
turned  toward  the  door. 

"Where  are  you  going?" 

"I'm  going  to  tell  papa." 

Fairy  laughed.     "Papa  knows  it." 

Carol  came  slowly  back  and  stood  by  the  dresser 
again.  After  a  short  silence  she  moved  away  once 
more. 

"Where  now?" 

"I'll  tell  Aunt  Grace,  then." 

"Aunt  Grace  knows  it,  too." 

"Does  Prudence  know  it?" 

"Yes." 

Carol  swallowed  this  bitter  pill  hi  silence. 

"How  long?"  she  inquired  at  last. 

"About  a  year.  Look  here,  Carol,  I'll  show  you 
something.  Really  I'm  glad  you  know  about  it. 
We're  pretty  young,  and  papa  thought  we  ought  to 
keep  it  dark  a  while  to  make  sure.  That's  why  we 
didn't  tell  you.  Look  at  this."  From  her  cedar 
chest — a  Christmas  gift  from  Gene — she  drew  out 
a  small  velvet  jeweler's  box,  and  displayed  before 
the  admiring  eyes  of  Carol  a  plain  gold  ring  with  a 
modest  diamond. 


PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 


Carol  kissed  it.    Then  she  kissed  Fairy  twice. 

"I  know  you'll  be  awfully  happy,  Fairy,"  she 
said  soberly.  "And  I'm  glad  of  it.  But — I  can't 
honestly  believe  there's  any  man  good  enough  for 
our  girls.  Babbie's  nice,  and  dear,  and  all  that, 
and  he's  so  crazy  about  you,  and — do  you  love 
him?"  Her  eyes  were  wide,  rather  wondering,  as 
she  put  this  question  softly. 

Fairy  put  her  arm  about  her  sister's  shoulders, 
and  her  fine  steady  eyes  met  Carol's  clearly. 

"Yes,"  she  said  frankly,  "I  love  him — with  all 
my  heart." 

"Is  that  what  makes  you  so — so  shiny,  and 
smiley,  and  starry  all  the  time?" 

"I  guess  it  is.  It  is  the  most  wonderful  thing 
in  the  world,  Carol.  You  can't  even  imagine  it-^ 
beforehand.  It  is  magical,  it  is  heavenly." 

"Yes,  I  suppose  it  is.  Prudence  says  so,  too.  I 
can't  imagine  it,  I  kind  of  wish  I  could.  Can't  I  go 
and  tell  Connie  and  Lark?  I  want  to  tell  some- 
body!" 

"Yes,  tell  them.  We  decided  not  to  let  you 
know  just  yet,  but  since — yes,  tell  them,  and  bring 
them  up  to  see  it." 


MAKING  MATCHES  129 

Carol  kissed  her  again,  and  went  out,  gently  clos- 
ing the  door  behind  her.  In  the  hallway  she  stopped 
and  stared  at  the  wall  for  an  unseeing  moment. 
Then  she  clenched  and  shook  a  stern  white  fist 
at  the  door. 

"I  don't  care,"  she  muttered,  "they're  not  good 
enough  for  Prudence  and  Fairy!  They're  not!  I 
just  believe  I  despise  men,  all  of  'em,  unless  it's 
daddy  and  Duck!"  She  smiled  a  little  and  then 
looked  grim  once  more.  "Eugene  Babler,  and  a 
little  queen  like  Fairy !  I  think  that  must  be  Heav- 
en's notion  of  a  joke."  She  sighed  again.  "Oh, 
well,  it's  something  to  have  something  to  tell!  I'm 
glad  I  found  it  out  ahead  of  Lark !" 


CHAPTER  VIII 
LARK'S  LITERARY  VENTURE 

AS  COMMENCEMENT  drew  near,  and  Fairy 
began  planning  momentous  things  for  her 
graduation,  a  little  soberness  came  into  the  parson- 
age life.  The  girls  were  certainly  growing  up.  Pru- 
dence had  been  married  a  long,  long  time.  Fairy 
was  being  graduated  from  college,  her  school-days 
were  over,  and  life  was  just  across  the  threshold — 
its  big  black  door  just  slightly  ajar  waiting  for  her 
to  press  it  back  and  catch  a  glimpse  of  what  lay 
beyond,  yes,  there  was  a  rosy  tinge  showing 
faintly  through  like  the  light  of  the  early  sun  shin- 
ing through  the  night- fog,  but  the  door  was  only  a 
little  ajar!  And  Fairy  was  nearly  ready  to  step 
through.  It  disturbed  the  parsonage  family  a  great 
deal. 

Even  the  twins  were  getting  along.     They  were 
finishing  high  school,  and  beginning  to  prate  of  col- 

130 


LARK'S  LITERARY  VENTURE       131 

lege  and  such  things,  but  the  twins  were  still,  well, 
they  were  growing  up,  perhaps,  but  they  kept  jubi- 
lantly young  along  in  the  process,  and  their  en- 
thusiasm for  diplomas  and  ice-cream  sodas  was  so 
nearly  identical  that  one  couldn't  feel  seriously  that 
the  twins  were  tugging  at  their  leashes. 

And  Connie  was  a  freshman  herself, — rather  tall, 
a  little  awkward,  with  a  sober  earnest  face,  and  with 
an  incongruously  humorous  droop  to  the  corners  of 
her  lips,  and  in  the  sparkle  of  her  eyes. 

Mr.  Starr  looked  at  them  and  sighed.  "I  tell 
you,  Grace,  it's  a  thankless  job,  rearing  a  family. 
Connie  told  me  to-day  that  my  collars  should  have 
straight  edges  now  instead  of  turned-back  corners. 
And  Lark  reminded  me  that  I  got  my  points  mixed 
up  in  last  Sunday's  lesson.  I'm  getting  sick  of  this 
family  business,  I'm  about  ready  to — " 

And  just  then,  as  a  clear  "Father"  came  float- 
ing down  the  stairway,  he  turned  his  head  alertly. 
"What  do  you  want?" 

"Everybody's  out,"  came  Carol's  plaintive  voice. 
"Will  you  come  and  button  me  up?  I  can't  ask 
auntie  to  run  clear  up  here,  and  I  can't  come  down 
because  I'm  in  my  stocking  feet.  My  new  slippers 


132  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

pinch  so  I  don't  put  them  on  until  I  have  to.  Oh, 
thanks,  father,  you're  a  dear." 

After  the  excitement  of  the  commencement,  the 
commotion,  the  glamour,  the  gaiety,  ordinary  par- 
sonage life  seemed  smooth  and  pleasant,  and  for  ten 
days  there  was  not  a  ruffle  on  the  surface  of  their 
domestic  waters.  It  was  on  the  tenth  day  that  the 
twins,  strolling  down  Main  Street,  conversing 
earnestly  together  as  was  their  custom,  were  ac- 
costed by  a  nicely-rounded,  pompous  man  with  a 
cordial,  "Hello,  twins." 

In  an  instant  they  were  bright  with  smiles,  for 
this  was  Mr.  Raider,  editor  and  owner  of  the  Daily 
News,  the  biggest  and  most  popular  of  Mount 
Mark's  three  daily  papers.  Looking  forward,  as  they 
did,  to  a  literary  career  for  Lark,  they  never  failed 
to  show  a  touching  and  unnatural  deference  to  any 
one  connected,  even  ever  so  remotely,  with  that  pro- 
fession. Indeed,  Carol,  with  the  charm  of  her  smile, 
had  bewitched  the  small  carriers  to  the  last  lad,  and 
in  reply  to  her  sister's  teasing,  only  answered  stout- 
ly, "That's  all  right, — you  don't  know  what  they 
may  turn  into  one  of  these  days.  We've  got  td; 
look  ahead  to  Lark's  Literary  Career." 


LARK'S  LITERARY  VENTURE       133 

So  when  humble  carriers,  and  some  of  them  black 
at  that,  received  such  sweet  attention,  one  can  well 
imagine  what  the  nicely  rounded,  pompous  editor 
himself  called  forth. 

They  did  not  resent  his  nicely-rounded  and 
therefore  pointless  jokes.  They  smiled  at  them. 
They  did  not  call  the  Daily  News  the  "Raider  Fam- 
ily Organ,"  as  they  yearned  to  do.  They  did  not 
admit  that  they  urged  their  father  to  put  Mr. 
Raider  on  all  church  committees  to  insure  pub- 
licity. They  swallowed  hard,  and  told  themselves 
that,  after  all,  Mr.  Raider  was  an  editor,  and  per- 
haps he  couldn't  help  editing  his  own  family  to  the 
exclusion  of  the  rest  of  Mount  Mark. 

When,  on  this  occasion,  he  looked  Lark  up  and 
down  with  his  usual  rotund  complacency,  Carol  only 
gritted  her  teeth  and  reminded  her  heaving  soul 
that  he  was  an  editor. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  this  summer,  Lark  ?" 
he  asked,  without  preamble. 

"Why, — just  nothing,  I  suppose.     As  usual." 

"Well,"  he  said,  frowning  plumply,  "we're  run* 
ning  short  of  men.     I've  heard  you're  interested  in   - 
our  line,  and  I  thought  maybe  you  could  help  us 


134  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

out  during  vacation.  How  about  it?  The  work'll 
be  easy  and  it'll  be  fine  experience  for  you.  We'll 
pay  you  five  dollars  a  week.  This  is  a  little  town, 
and  we're  called  a  little  publication,  but  our  work 
and  our  aim  and  methods  are  identical  with  those 
of  the  big  city  papers."  He  swelled  visibly,  almost 
alarmingly.  "How  about  it?  You're  the  one  with 
the  literary  longings,  aren't  you?" 

Lark  was  utterly  speechless.  If  the  National 
Bank  had  opened  its  coffers  to  the  always  hard- 
pressed  twins,  she  could  not  have  been  more 
completely  confounded.  Carol  was  in  a  condition 
nearly  as  serious,  but  grasping  the  gravity  of  the 
situation,  she  rushed  into  the  breach  headlong. 

"Yes, — yes,"  she  gasped.  "She's  literary.  Oh, 
she's  very  literary." 

Mr.  Raider  smiled.     "Well,  would  you  like  to 

v 

try  your  hand  out  with  me  ?" 

Again  Carol  sprang  to  her  sister's  relief. 

"Yes,  indeed,  she  would,"  she  cried.  "Yes,  in- 
deed." And  then,  determined  to  impress  upon  him 
that  the  Daily  News  was  the  one  to  profit  chiefly 
from  the  innovation,  she  added,  "And  it's  a  lucky 


LARK'S  LITERARY  VENTURE       135 

day  for  the  Daily  News,  too,  I  tell  you.  There  aren't 
many  Larks  in  Mount  Mark,  in  a  literary  way,  I 
mean,  and — the  Daily  News  needs  some — that  is,  I 
think — new  blood, — anyhow,  Lark  will  be  just  fine." 

"All  right.  Come  in,  Monday  morning  at  eight, 
Lark,  and  I'll  set  you  to  work.  It  won't  be  anything 
very  important.  You  can  wrijte  up  the  church 
news,  and  parties,  and  goings  away,  and  things  like 
that.  It'll  be  good  training.  You  can  study  our 
papers  between  now  and  then,  to  catch  our  style." 

Carol  lifted  her  head  a  little  higher.  If  Mr.  Raider 
thought  her  talented  twin  would  be  confined  to  the 
ordinariy  style  of  the  Daily  News,  which  Carol  con- 
sidered atrociously  lacking  in  any  style  at  all,  he 
would  be  most  gloriously  mistaken,  that's  certain! 

It  is  a  significant  fact  that  after  Mr.  Raider  went 
back  into  the  sanctum  of  the  Daily  Neivs,  the  twins 
walked  along  for  one  full  block  without  speaking. 
Such  a  thing  had  never  happened  before  in  all  the 
years  of  their  twinship.  At  the  end  of  the  block, 
Carol  turned  her  head  restlessly.  They  were  eight 
blocks  from  home.  But  the  twins  couldn't  run  on 
the  street,  it  was  so  undignified.  She  looked  long- 


136  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

ingly  about  for  a  buggy  bound  their  way.  Even  a 
grocery  cart  would  have  been  a  welcome  though 
humbling  conveyance. 

Lark's  starry  eyes  were  lifted  to  the  skies,  and 
her  rapt  face  was  glowing.  Carol  looked  behind 
her,  looked  ahead.  Then  she  thought  again  of  the 
eight  blocks. 

"Lark,"  she  said,  "I'm  afraid  we'll  be  late  for 
dinner.  And  auntie  told  us  to  hurry  back.  Maybe 
we'd  better  run." 

Running  is  a  good  expression  for  emotion,  and 
Lark  promptly  struck  out  at  a  pace  that  did  full 
credit  to  her  lithe  young  limbs.  Down  the  street 
they  raced,  little  tendrils  of  hair  flying  about  their 
flushed  and  shining  faces,  faster,  faster,  breathless, 
panting,  their  gladness  fairly  overflowing.  And 
many  people  turned  to  look,  wondering  what  in  the 
world  possessed  the  leisurely,  dignified  parsonage 
twins. 

The  last  block  was  traversed  at  a  really  alarm- 
ing rate.  The  passion  for  "telling  things"  had  seized 
them  both,  and  they  whirled  around  the  corner  and 
across  the  lawn  at  a  rate  that  brought  Connie  out 
into  the  yard  to  meet  them,  with  a  childish,  "What's 


LARK'S  LITERARY  VENTURE       137 
the  matter?    What  happened?    Did  something  bite 


you 


Aunt  Grace  sat  up  in  her  hammock  to  look,  Fairy 
ran  out  to  the  porch,  and  Mr.  Starr  laid  down  his 
book.  Had  the  long  and  dearly  desired  war  been 
declared  at  last  ? 

But  when  the  twins  reached  the  porch,  they 
paused  sheepishly,  shyly. 

"What's  the  matter?"    chorused  the  family. 

"Are — are  we  late  for  dinner?"  Carol  demanded 
earnestly,  as  though  their  lives  depended  on  the 
answer. 

The  family  stared  in  concerted  amazement.  When 
before  this  had  the  twins  shown  anxiety  about  their 
lateness  for  meals — unless  a  favorite  dessert  or 
salad  was  all  consumed  in  their  absence.  And  it  was 
only  half  past  four! 

Carol  gently  shoved  Connie  off  the  cushion  upon 
which  she  had  dropped,  and  arranged  it  tenderly 
in  a  chair. 

"Sit  down  and  rest,  Larkie,"  she  said  in  a  soft 
ancj  loving  voice.  "Are  you  nearly  tired  to  death  ?" 

Lark  sank,  panting,  into  the  chair,  and  gazed 
about  the  circle  with  brilliant  eyes, 


.138  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

"Get  her  a  drink,  can't  you,  Connie  ?"  said  Carol 
indignantly.  "Can't  you  see  the  poor  thing  is  just 
tired  to  death?  She  ran  the  whole  way  home!" 

Still  the  family  stared.  The  twins'  devotion  to 
each  other  was  never  failing,  but  this  attentiveness 
on  the  part  of  Carol  was  extremely  odd.  Now  she 
sat  down  on  the  step  beside  her  sister,  and  gazed 
up  into  the  flushed  face  with  adoring,  but  somewhat 
patronizing,  pride.  After  all,  she  had  had  a  whole 
lot  to  do  with  training  Larkie! 

"What  in  the  world?"  began  their  father  curi- 
ously. 

"Had  a  sunstroke?"  queried  Fairy,  smiling. 

"You're  both  crazy,"  declared  Connie,  coming 
back  with  the  water.  "You're  trying  to  fool  us.  I 
won't  ask  any  questions.  You  don't  catch  me  this 
time." 

"Why  don't  you  lie  down  and  let  Lark  use  you 
'for  a  footstool,  Carol?"  suggested  their  father, 
with  twinkling  eyes. 

'"I  would  if  she  wanted  a  footstool,"  said  Carol 
positively.  "I'd  love  to  do  it.  I'd  be  proud  to  dp 
it.  I'd  consider  it  an  honor." 

Lark  blushed  and  lowered  her  eyes  modestly. 


LACK'S  LITERARY  VENTURE       139 

"What  happened?"  urged  their  father,  still  more 
curiously. 

"Did  she  get  you  out  of  a  scrape?"  mocked  Fairy. 

"Oh,  just  let  'em  alone,"  said  Connie.  "They 
think  it's  smart  to  be  mysterious.  Nothing  hap- 
pened at  all.  That's  what  they  call  being  funny." 

"Tell  it,  Lark."  Carol's  voice  was  so  intense  that 
it  impressed  even  skeptical  Connie  and  derisive 
Fairy. 

Lark  raised  the  glowing  eyes  once  more,  leaned 
forward  and  said  thrillingly : 

"It's  the  Literary  Career." 

The  silence  that  followed  this  bold  announcement 
was  sufficiently  dramatic  to  satisfy  even  Carol,  an<3 
she  patted  Lark's  knee  approvingly. 

"Well,  go  on,"  urged  Connie,  at  last,  when  the 
twins  continued  silent. 

"That's  all." 

"She's  going  to  run  the  Daily  News." 

"Oh,  I'll  only  be  a  cub  reporter,  I  guess  that's 
what  you  call  them." 

"Reporter  nothing,"  contradicted  Carol.  "There's 
nothing  literary  about  that.  You  must  take  the 
whole  paper  in  hand,  and  color  it  up  a  bit.  And  for 


1 40  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

goodness'  sake,  polish  up  Mr.  Raider's  editorials. 
I  could  write  editorials  like  his  myself." 

"And  you  might  tone  down  the  family  notes  for 
him,"  suggested  Fairy.  "We  don't  really  care  to 
know  when  Mrs.  Kelly  borrows  eggs  of  the  edi- 
tor's wife  and  how  many  dolls  Betty  got  for  Christ- 
mas and  Jack's  grades  in  high  school.  We  can  get 
along  without  those  personal  touches." 

"Maybe  you  can  give  us  a  little  church  write-up 
now  and  then,  without  necessitating  Mr.  Raider  as 
chairman  of  every  committee,"  interposed  their 
father,  and  then  retracted  quickly.  "I  was  only 
joking,  of  course,  I  didn't  mean — " 

"No,  of  course,  you  didn't,  father,"  said  Carol 
kindly.  "We'll  consider  that  you  didn't  say  it.  But 
just  bear  it  in  mind,  Larkie." 

Fairy  solemnly  rose  and  crossed  the  porch,  and 
with  a  hand  on  Lark's  shoulder  gave  her  a  solemn 
shake.  "Now,  Lark  Starr,  you  begin  at  the  be- 
ginning and  tell  us.  Do  you  think  we're  all  wooden 
Indians?  We  can't  wait  until  you  make  a  news- 
paper out  of  the  Daily  News!  We  want  to  know, 
talk." 

Thus  adjured,  Lark  did  talk,  and  the  little  story 


with  many  striking  embellishments  from  Carol  was 
given  into  the  hearing  of  the  family. 

"Five  dollars  a  week,"  echoed  Connie  faintly. 

"Of  course,  I'll  divide  that  with  Carol,"  was  the 
generous  offer. 

"No,  I  won't  have  it.  I  haven't  any  literary 
brains,  and  I  can't  take  any  of  your  salary.  Thanks 
just  the  same."  Then  she  added  happily:  "But  I 
know  you'll  be  very  generous  when  I  need  to  bor- 
row, and  I  do  borrow  pretty  often,  Larkie." 

For  the  rest  of  the  week  Lark's  literary  career 
was  the  one  topic  of  conversation  in  the  Starr 
family.  The  Daily  News  became  a  sort  of  literary 
center  piece,  and  the  whole  parsonage  revolved  en- 
thusiastically around  it.  Lark's  clothes  were  put 
in  the  most  immaculate  condition,  and  her  wardrobe 
greatly  enriched  by  donations  pressed  upon  her 
by  her  admiring  sisters.  Every  evening  the  younger 
girls  watched  impatiently  for  the  carrier  of  the 
Daily  News,  and  then  rushed  to  meet  him.  The 
paper  was  read  with  avid  interest,  criticized,  com- 
mended. They  all  admitted  that  Lark  would  be  an 
acquisition  to  the  editorial  force,  indeed,  one  sore- 
ly needed.  They  begged  her  to  give  Mount  Mark 


142  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

the  news  while  it  was  news,  without  waiting  to  find 
what  the  other  Republican  papers  of  the  state 
though  about  it.  Why,  the  instructions  and  sisterly 
advice  and  editorial  improvements  poured  into  the 
ears  of  patient  Lark  would  have  made  an  archangel 
giddy  with  confusion! 

During  those  days,  Carol  followed  Lark  about 
with  a  hungry  devotion  that  would  have  been  ob- 
served by  her  sister  on  a  less  momentous  occasion. 
But  now  she  was  so  full  of  the  darling  Career  that 
she  overlooked  the  once  most-darling  Carol.  On 
Monday  morning,  Carol  did  not  remain  up-stairs 
with  Lark  as  she  donned  her  most  businesslike 
dress  for  her  initiation  into  the  world  of  literature. 
Instead,  she  sulked  grouchily  in  the  dining-room, 
and  when  Lark,  radiant,  star-eyed,  danced  into  the 
room  for  the  family's  approval,  she  almost  glowered 
upon  her. 

"Am  I  all  right?  Do  I  look  literary?  Oh,  oh," 
gurgled  Lark,  with  music  in  her  voice. 

Carol  sniffed. 

"Oh,  isn't  it  a  glorious  morning?"  sang  Lark 
again.  "Isn't  everything  wonderful,  father?" 

"Lark  Starr,"  cried  Carol  passionately,  "I  should 


LARK'S  LITERARY  VENTURE       143 

think  you'd  be  ashamed  of  yourself.  It's  bad  enough 
to  turn  your  back  on  your — your  life-long  twin, 
and  raise  barriers  between  us,  but  for  you  to  be  so 
wildly  happy  about  it  is — perfectly  wicked." 

Lark  wheeled  about  abruptly  and  stared  at  her 
sister,  the  fire  slowly  dying  out  of  her  eyes. 

"Why,  Carol,"  she  began  slowly,  in  a  low;  voice, 
without  music. 

"Oh,  that's  all  right.  You  needn't  try  to  talk 
me  over.  A  body'd  think  there  was  nothing  in  the 
world  but  ugly  old  newspapers.  I  don't  like  'em, 
anyhow.  I  think  they're  downright  nosey!  And 
we'll  never  be  the  same  any  more,  Larkie,  and  you're 
the  only  twin  I've  got,  and — " 

Carol's  defiance  ended  in  a  poorly  suppressed  sob 
and  a  rush  of  tears. 

Lark  threw  her  gloves  on  the  table. 

"I  won't  go  at  all,"  she  said.  "I  won't  go  a 
step.  If — if  you  think  for  a  minute,  Carol,  that 
any  silly  old  Career  is  going  to  be  any  dearer  to 
me  than  you  are,  and  if  we  aren't  going  to  be  just 
as  we've  always  been,  I  won't  go  a  step." 

Carol  wiped  her  eyes.  "Well,"  she  said  very 
affectionately,  "if  you  feel  like  that,  it's  all  right.  I 


144  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

just  wanted  you  to  say  you  liked  me  better  than 
anything  else.  Of  course  you  must  go,  Lark.  I 
really  take  all  the  credit  for  you  and  your  talent  to 
myself,  and  it's  as  much  an  honor  for  me  as  it  is 
for  you,  and  I  want  you  to  go.  But  don't  you  ever 
go  to  liking  the  crazy  old  stories  any  better  than 
you  do  me." 

Then  she  picked  up  Lark's  gloves,  and  the  two 
went  out  with  an  arm  around  each  other's  waist. 

It  was  a  dreary  morning  for  Carol,  but  none  of 
her  sisters  knew  that  most  of  it  was  spent  in  the 
closet  of  her  room,  sobbing  bitterly.  "It's  just  the 
way  of  the  world,"  she  mourned,  in  the  tone  of  one 
who  has  lived  many  years  and  suffered  untold 
anguish,  "we  spend  our  lives  bringing  them  up,  and 
loving  them,  and  finding  all  our  joy  and  happiness 
in  them,  and  then  they  go,  and  we  are  left  alone." 

Lark's  morning  at  the  office  was  quiet,  but  none 
the  less  thrilling  on  that  account.  Mr.  Raider  re- 
ceived her  cordially,  and  with  a  great  deal  of  unctu- 
ous fatherly  advice.  He  took  her  into  his  office, 
which  was  one  corner  of  the  press  room  glassed  in 
by  itself,  and  talked  over  her  duties,  which,  as  far 


LARK'S  LITERARY  VENTURE      1145 

as  Lark  could  gather  from  his  discourse,  appeared 
to  consist  in  doing  as  she  was  told. 

"Now,  remember,"  he  said,  in  part,  "that  run- 
ning a  newspaper  is  business.  Pure  business.  We've 
got  to  give  folks  what  they  want  to  hear,  and  they 
want  to  hear  everything  that  happens.  Of  course, 
it  will  hurt  some  people,  it  is  not  pleasant  to  have 
private  affairs  aired  in  public  papers,  but  that's  the 
newspaper  job.  Folks  want  to  hear  about  the  pri- 
vate affairs  of  other  folks.  They  pay  us  to  find  out, 
and  tell  them,  and  it's  our  duty  to  do  it.  So  don't 
ever  be  squeamish  about  coming  right  out  blunt  with 
the  plain  facts ;  that's  what  we  are  paid  for." 

This  4id  not  seriously  impress  Lark.  Theoretical- 
ly, she  realized  that  he  was  right.  And  he  talked 
so  impressively  of  THE  PRESS,  and  its  mission  in 
the  world,  and  its  rights  and  its  pride  and  its  pow- 
er, that  Lark,  looking  away  with  hope-filled  eyes, 
saw  a  high  and  mighty  figure,  immense,  all-power- 
ful, standing  free,  majestic,  beckoning  her  to  come. 
It  was  her  first  view  of  the  world's  PRESS. 

But  on  the  fourth  morning,  when  she  entered 
the  office,  Mr.  Raider  met  her  with  more  excitement 


146  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

in  his  manner  than  she  had  ever  seen  before.  As  a 
rule,  excitement  does  not  sit  well  on  nicely-rounded, 
pink-skinned  men. 

"Lark,"  he  began  hurriedly,  "do  you  know  the 
Dalys?  On  Elm  Street?" 

"Yes,  they  are  members  of  our  church.  I  know 
them." 

He  leaned  forward.  "Big  piece  of  news  down 
that  way.  Jhis  morning  at  breakfast,  Daly  shot  his 
daughter  Maisie  and  the  little  boy.  They  are  both 
dead.  Daly  got  away,  and  we  can't  get  at  the  bot- 
tom of  it.  The  family  is  shut  off  alone,  and  won't 
see  any  one." 

Lark's  face  had  gone  white,  and  she  clasped  her 
slender  hands  together,  swaying,  quivering,  bright 
lights  before  her  eyes. 

"Oh,  oh!"  she  murmured  brokenly.  "Oh,  how 
awful!" 

Mr.  Raider  did  not  observe  the  white  horror  in 
Lark's  face.  "Yes,  isn't  it?"  he  said.  "I  want  you 
to  go  right  down  there." 

"Yes,  indeed,"  said  Lark,  though  she  shivered 
at  the  thought.  "Of  course,  I  will."  Lark  was  a 
minister's  daughter.  If  people  were  in  trouble,  she 


LARK'S  LITERARY  VENTURE      [147 

must  go,  of  course.  "Isn't  it — awful?  I  never 
knew  of — such  a  thing — before.  Maisie  was  in  my 
class  at  school.  I  never  liked  her  very  well.  I'm 
so  sorry  I  didn't, — oh,  I'm  so  sorry.  Yes,  I'll  go 
right  away.  You'd  better  call  papa  up  and  tell  him¥ 
to  come,  too." 

"I  will,  but  you  run  along.  Being  the  minister's 
daughter,  they'll  let  you  right  up.  Jhey'll  tell  you 
all  about  it,  of  course.  Don't  talk  to  any  one  on  the 
way  back.  Come  right  to  the  office.  Don't  stay 
any  longer  than  you  can  help,  but  get  everything 
they  will  say  about  it,  and — er — comfort  them  as 
much  as  you  can." 

"Yes, — yes."  Lark's  face  was  frightened,  but 
firm.  "I — I've  never  gone  to  the  houses  much  when 
• — there  was  trouble.  Prudence  and  Fairy  have  al- 
ways done  that.  But  of  course  it's  right,  and  I'm 
going.  Oh,  I  do  wish  I  had  been  fonder  of  Maisie. 
I'll  go  right  away." 

And  she  hurried  away,  still  quivering,  a  cold 
chill  upon  her.  Three  hours  later  she  returned  to 
the  office,  her  eyes  dark  circled,  and  red  with  weep- 
ing. Mr.  Raider  met  her  at  the  door. 

"Did  you  see  them?" 


i48  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

"Yes,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice.  "They — they 
took  me  up-stairs,  and — "  She  paused  pitifully,  the 
memory  strong  upon  her,  for  the  woman,  the  mother 
of  five  children,  two  of  whom  had  been  struck 
down,  had  lain  in  Lark's  strong  tender  arms,  and 
sobbed  out  the  ugly  story. 

"Did  they  tell  you  all  about  it?" 

"Yes,  they  told  me.    They  told  me." 

"Come  on  into  my  office,"  he  said.  "You  must 
write  it  up  while  it  is  fresh  in  your  mind.  You'll 
do  it  better  while  the  feeling  is  on  you." 

Lark  gazed  at  him  stupidly,  not  comprehending. 

"Write  it  up?"  she  repeated  confusedly. 

"Yes,  for  the  paper.  How;  they  looked,  what 
they  said,  how  it  happened, — everything.  We  want 
to  scoop  on  it." 

"But  I  don't  think  they — would  want  it  told," 
Lark  gasped. 

"Oh,  probably  not,  but  people  want  to  know  about 
it.  Don't  you  remember  what  I  told  you?  The 
PRESS  is  a  powerful  task  master.  He  asks  hard 
duties  of  us,  but  we  must  obey.  We've  got  to  give 
the  people  what  they  want.  There's  a  reporter 


LARK'S.  LITERARY  VENTURE       149 

'down  from  Burlington;  already,  but  he  couldn't 
get  anything  put  of  them.  We've  got  a  clear  scoop 
on  it." 

Lark  glanced  fearfully  over  her  shoulder.  A 
huge  menacing  shadow  lowered  black  behind  her. 
THE  PRESS  I  She  shuddered  again. 

"I  can't  write  it  up,"  she  faltered.  "Mrs.  Daly— 
§he —  Oh,  I  held  her  in  my  arms,  Mr.  Raider,  and 
kissed  her,  and  we  cried  all  morning,  and  I  can't 
write  it  up.  I — I  am  the  minister's  daughter,  you 
know.  I  can't." 

"Nonsense,  now,  Lark,"  he  said,  "be  sensible. 
"You  needn't  give  all  the  sob  part.  I'll  touch  it  up 
for  you.  Just  write  out  what  you  saw,  and  what 
they  said,  and  I'll  do  the  rest.  Run  along  now.  Be 
sensible." 

Lark  glanced  over  her  shoulder  again.  The 
PRESS  seemed  tremendously  big,  leering  at  her, 
threatening  her.  Lark  gasped,  sobbingly. 

Then  she  sat  down  at  Mr.  Raider's  desk,  and 
'drew  a  pad  of  paper  toward  her.  For  five  minutes 
she  sat  immovable,  body  tense,  face  stern,  breath- 
less, rigid.  Mr.  Raider  after  one  curious,  satisfied 


J5CS  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

glance,  slipped  out  and  closed  the  door  softly  after 
him.  He  felt  he  could  trust  to  the  newspaper  in- 
stinct to  get  that  story  out  of  her. 

Finally  Lark,  despairingly,  clutched  a  pencil  and 
wrote 

"Terrible  Tragedy  of  the  Early  Morning. 
Daly  Family  Crushed  with  Sorrow." 

Her  mind  passed  rapidly  back  over  the  story  she 
had  heard,  the  father's  occasional  wild  bursts  of 
temper,  the  pitiful  efforts  of  the  family  to  keep  his 
weakness  hidden,  the  insignificant  altercation  at  the 
breakfast  table,  the  cry  of  the  startled  baby,  and 
then  the  sudden  ungovernable  fury  that  lashed  him, 
the  two  children — !  Lark  shuddered!  She  glanced 
over  her  shoulder  again.  The  fearful  dark  shadow 
was  very  close,  very  terrible,  ready  to  envelope  her 
in  its  smothering  depths.  She  sprang  to  her  feet; 
and  rushed  out  of  the  office.  Mr.  Daly  was  in  the 
doorway.  She  flung  herself  upon  him,  crushing  the 

i 

paper  in  his  hand. 

"I  can't,"  she  cried,  looking  in  terror  over  her 
shoulder  as  she  spoke,  "I  can't.  I  don't  want  to 
be  a  newspaper  woman.  I  don't  want  any  literary 


LARK'S  LITERARY  VENTURE       151 

career.  I  am  a  minister's  daughter,  Mr.  Raider, 
I  can't  talk  about  people's  troubles.  I  want  to  go 
home." 

Mr.  Raider  looked  searchingly  into  the  white  face, 
and  noted  the  frightened  eyes.  "There  now,"  he 
said  soothingly,  "never  mind  the  Daly  story.  I'll 
cover  it  myself.  I  guess  it  was  too  hard  an  assign- 
ment to  begin  with,  and  you  a  friend  of  the  family, 
and  all.  Let  it  go.  You  stay  at  home  this  after- 
noon. Come  back  to-morrow  and  I'll  start  you 
again.  Maybe  I  was  too  hard  on  you  to-day." 

"I  don't  want  to,"  she  cried,  looking  back  at  the 
shadow,  which  seemed  somehow  to  have  receded 
a  little.  "I  don't  want  to  be  a  newspaper  woman. 
I  think  I'll  be  the  other  kind  of  writer, — not  news- 
papers, you  know,  just  plain  writing.  I'm  sure  I 
shall  like  it  better.  I  wasn't  cut  out  for  this  line,  I 
know.  I  want  to  go  now." 

"Run  along,"  he  said.  "I'll  see  you  later  on.  You 
go  to  bed.  You're  nearly  sick." 

Dignity?  Lark  did  not  remember  that  she  had 
ever  dreamed  of  dignity.  She  just  started  for  home, 
for  her  father,  Aunt  Grace  and  the  girls !  The  shab- 
by old  parsonage  seemed  suddenly  very  bright,  very 


J5.2  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

sunny,  very  safe.  J'he  dreadful  dark  shadow  was 
not  pressing  so  close  to  her  shoulders,  did  not  feel 
so  smotheringly  near. 

A  startled  group  sprang  up  from  the  porch  to 
greet  her.  She  flung  one  arm  around  Carol's  shoul- 
der, and  drew  her  twin  with  her  close  to  her  aunt's 
side.  "I  don't  want  to  be  a  newspaper  woman,"  she 
cried,  in  a  high  excited  voice.  "I  don't  like  it.  I 
am  awfully  afraid  of— THE  PRESS—"  She 
looked  over  her  shoulder.  The  shadow  was  fad- 
ing away  in  the  distance.  "I  couldn't  do  it.  I — " 
!&nd  then,  crouching,  with  Carol,  close  against  her 
aunt's  side,  clutching  one  of  the  soft  hands  in  her 
own,  she  told  the  story. 

"I  couldn't,  Fairy,"  she  declared,  looking  be- 
seechingly into  the  strong  kind  face  of  her  sister. 
"I — couldn't.  Mrs.  Daly — sobbed  so,  and  her  hands 
were  so  brown  and  hard,  Fairy,  she  kept  rubbing 
my  shoulder,  and  saying,  'Oh,  Lark,  oh,  Lark,  my 
little  children.'  I  couldn't.  I  don't  like  newspapers, 
Fairy.  Really,  I  don't." 

Fairy  looked  greatly  troubled.  "I  wish  father 
were  at  home,"  she  said  very  quietly.  "Mr.  Raider 
meant  all  right,  of  course,  but  it  was  wrong  to  send 


LARK'S  LITERARY  VENTURE       153 

a  young  girl  like  you.  Father  is  there  now.  It's 
very  terrible.  You  did  just  exactly  right,  Larkie. 
Father  will  say  so.  I  guess  maybe  it's  not  the 
job  for  a  minister's  girl.  Of  course,  the  story  will 
come  out,  but  we're  not  the  ones  to  tell  it." 

"But — the  Career,"  suggested  Carol. 

"Why,"  said  Lark,  "I'll  wait  a  little  and  then 
have  a  real  literary  career,  you  know,  stories,  and 
books,  and  poems,  the  kind  that  don't  harrow  peo- 
ple's feelings.  I  really  don't  think  it  is  right.  Don't 
you  remember  Prudence  says  the  parsonage  is  a 
place  to  hide  sorrows,  not  to  hang  them  on  the 
clothesline  for  every  one  to  see."  She  looked  for 
a  last  time  over  her  shoulder.  Dimly  she  saw  a 
small  dark  cloud, — all  that  was  left  of  the  shadow 
which  had  seemed  so  eager  to  devour  her.  Her 
arms  clasped  Carol  with  renewed  intensity. 

"Oh,"  she  breathed,  "oh,  isn't  the  parsonage 
lovely,  Carol?  I  wish  father  would  come.  You  all 
look  so  sweet,  and  kind,  and — oh,  I  love  to  be  at- 
home." 


CHAPTER  IX 

A   CLEAR   CALL 

THE  tinkle  of  the  telephone  disturbed  the  family 
as  they  were  at  dinner,  and  Connie,  who  sat 
nearest,  rose  to  answer  the  summons,  while  Carol, 
at  her  corner  of  the  table  struck  a  tragic  attitude. 

"If  Joe  Graves  has  broken  anything,  he's  broken 
bur  friendship  for  good  and  all.  These  fellows 
that  break  themselves — " 

"Break  themselves?"  asked  her  father  gravely. 

"Yes,- — any  of  his  members,  you  know,  his  leg, 
or  his  arm,  or, —  If  he  has,  I  must  say  frankly  that 
I  hope  it  is  his  neck.  These  boys  that  break  them- 
selves at  the  last  minute,  thereby  breaking  dates, 
are—" 

"Well,"  Connie  said  calmly,  "if  you're  through, 
I'll  begin." 

"Oh,  goodness,  Connie,  deafen  one  ear  and  listen 


A  CLEAR  CALL  155 

with  the  other.  You've  got  to  learn  to  hear  in  a 
hubbub.  Go  on  then,  I'm  through.  But  I  haven't 
forgotten  that  I  missed  the  Thanksgiving  banquet 
last  year  because  Phil  broke  his  ankle  that  very  aft- 
ernoon on  the  ice.  What  business  had  he  on  the 
ice  when  he  had  a  date — " 

"Ready?"  asked  Connie,  as  the  phone  rang  again, 
insistently. 

"Go  on,  then.  Don't  wait  until  I  get  started.  An- 
swer it." 

Connie  removed  the  receiver  and  called  the  cus- 
tomary "Hello."  Then,  "Yes,  just  a  minute.  It's 
for  you,  Carol." 

Carol  rose  darkly.  "It's  Joe,"  she  said  in  a  dun- 
geon-dark voice.  "He's  broken,  I  foresee  it.  If 
there's  anything  I  despise  and  abominate  it's  a 
breaker  of  dates.  I  think  it  ought  to  be  included 
among  the  condemnations  in  the  decalogue.  Men 
have  no  business  being  broken,  except  their  hearts, 
when  girls  are  mixed  up  in  it. — Hello?— -Oh; 
oh-h-h!  Yes, — it's  professor!  How  are  you? — 
Yes,  indeed, — oh,  yes,  I'm  going  to  be  home.  Yes, 
indeed.  Come  about  eight.  Of  course  I'll  be  here, 
— nothing  important, — it  didn't  amount  to  anything 


156  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

at  all, — just  a  little  old  every-day  affair. — Yes,  I 
can  arrange  it  nicely. — We're  so  anxious  to  see 
you. — All  right, — Good-by." 

She  turned  back  to  the  table,  her  face  flushed, 
eyes  shining.  "It's  professor!  He's  in  town  just 
overnight,  and  he's  coming  out.  I'll  have  to  phone 
Joe-" 

"Anything  I  despise  and  abominate  it's  a  breaker 
of  dates,"  chanted  Connie;  "ought  to  be  condemned 
in  the  decalogue." 

"Oh,  that's  different,"  explained  Carol.  "This  is 
professor!  Besides,  this  will  sort  of  even  up  for 
the  Thanksgiving  banquet  last  year." 

"But  that  was  Phil  and  this  is  Joe !" 

"Oh,  that's  all  right.  It's  just  the  principle,  you 
know,  nothing  personal  about  it.  Seven-six-two, 
please.  Yes.  Seven-six-two?  Is  Joe  there?  Oh, 
hello,  Joe.  Oh,  Joe,  I'm  so  sorry  to  go  back  on  you 
the  last  minute  like  this,  but  one  of  my  old  school- 
teachers is  in  town  just  for  to-night  and  is  coming 
here,  and  of  course  I  can't  leave.  I'm  so  sorry. 
I've  been  looking  forward  to  it  for  so  long,  but — oh, 
that  is  nice  of  you.  You'll  forgive  me  this  once, 
won't  you?  Oh,  thanks,  Joe,  you're  so  kind." 


A  CLEAR  CALL  157 

"Hurry  up  and  phone  Roy,  Larkie.  You'll  have 
to  break  yours,  too." 

Lark  immediately  did  so,  while  Carol  stood 
thoughtfully  beside  the  table,  her  brows  puckered 
unbecomingly. 

"I  think,"  she  said  at  last  slowly,  with  wary 
eyes  on  her  father's  quiet  face,  "I  think  I'll  let  the 
tuck  out  of  my  old  rose  dress.  It's  too  short." 

"Too  short!  Why,  Carol — "  interrupted  Tier 
aunt. 

"Too  short  for  the  occasion,  I  mean.  I'll  put 
it  back  to-morrow."  Once  more  her  eyes  turned 
cautiously  father-ward.  "You  see,  professor  still 
has  the  'little  twinnie'  idea  in  his  brain,  and  I'm  go- 
;ng  to  get  it  out.  It  isn't  consistent  with  our  five 
feet  seven.  We're  grown  up.  Professor  has  got 
to  see  it.  You  skoot  up-stairs,  Connie,  won't  you, 
there's  a  dear,  and  bring  it  down,  both  of  them, 
Lark's  too.  Lark, — where  did  you  put  that  rip- 
ping knife?  Aunt  Grace,  will  you  put  the  iron  on 
for  me?  It's  perfectly  right  that  professor  should 
see  we're  growing  up.  We'll  have  to  emphasize 
it  something  extra,  or  he  might  overlook  it.  It 


158  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

makes  him  feel  Methuselish  because  he's  so  awfully 
smart.  But  I'll  soon  change  his  mind  for  him." 

Lark  stoutly  refused  to  be  "grown  up  for  the  oc- 
casion," as  Carol  put  it.  She  said  it  was  too  much 
bother  to  let  out  the  tuck,  and  then  put  it  right 
back  in,  just  for  nonsense.  At  first  this  disappoint- 
ed Carol,  but  finally  she  accepted  it  gracefully. 

"All  right,"  she  said,  "I  guess  I  can  grow  up 
enough  for  both  of  us.  Professor  is  not  stupid;  if 
he  sees  I'm  a  young  lady,  he'll  naturally  know  that 
you  are,  too,  since  we  are  twins.  You  can  help  me 
rip  then  if  you  like, — you  begin  around  on  that 
side." 

In  less  than  two  minutes  the  whole  family  was 
engaged  in  growing  Carol  up  for  the  occasion.  They 
didn't  see  any  sense  in  it,  but  Carol  seemed  so  un- 
alterably convinced  that  it  was  necessary  that  they 
hated  to  question  her  motives.  And,  as  was  both 
habitual  and  comfortable,  they  proceeded  to  do  as 
she  directed. 

If  her  idea  had  been  utterly  to  dumfound  the 
unsuspecting  professor,  she  succeeded  admirably. 
Carefully  she  planned  her  appearance,  giving  him 
just  the  proper  interval  of  patient  waiting  in  the 


A  CLEAR  CALL  159 

presence  of  her  aunt  and  sisters.  Then,  a  slow  part- 
ing of  the  curtains  and  Carol  stood  out,  brightly, 
gladly,  her  slender  hands  held  out  in  welcome,  Carol, 
with  long  skirts  swishing  around  her  white-slip- 
pered feet,  her  slender  throat  rising  cream-white 
above  the  soft  fold  of  old  rose  lace,  her  graceful 
head  with  its  royal  crown  of  bronze-gold  hair,  tilted 
most  charmingly. 

The  professor  sprang  to  his  feet  and  stared  at 
her.  "Why,  Carol,"  he  exclaimed  soberly,  almost 
sadly,  as  he  crossed  the  room  and  took  her  hand. 
"Why,  Carol!  Whatever  have  you  been  doing  to 
yourself  overnight?" 

Cf  course,  it  was  far  more  "overnight"  than 
the  professor  knew,  but  Carol  saw  to  it  that  there 
was  nothing  to  arouse  his  suspicion  on  that  score. 
He  lifted  her  hand  high,  and  looked  frankly  down 
the  long  lines  of  her  skirt,  with  the  white  toes  of 
her  slippers  showing  beneath.  He  shook  his  head. 
And  though  he  smiled  again,  his  voice  was  sober. 

"I'm  beginning  to  feel  my  age,"  he  said. 

This  was  not  what  Carol  wanted,  and  she  re- 
sumed her  old  childish  manner  with  a  gleeful  laugh. 

"What  on  earth  are  you  doing  in  Mount  Mark 


160  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

again,  P'fessor!"  When  Carol  wished  to  be  par- 
ticularly coy,  she  said  "p'fessor."  It  didn't  sound 
exactly  cultured,  but  spoken  in  Carol's  voice  was 
really  irresistible. 

"Why,  I  came  to  see  you  before  your  hair  turned 
gray,  and  wrinkles  marred  you — " 

"Wrinkles  won't  mar  mine,"  cried  Carol  em- 
phatically. "Not  ever!  I  use  up  a  whole  jar  of 
cold  cream  every  three  weeks!  I  won't  have  'em. 
Wrinkles!  P'fessor,  you  don't  know  what  a  time  I 
have  keeping  myself  young." 

She  joined  in  the  peal  of  laughter  that  rang  out 
as  this  age-wise  statement  fell  from  her  lips. 

"You'll  be  surprised,"  he  said,  "what  does  bring 
me  to  Mount  Mark.  I  have  given  up  my  position 
in  New  York,  and  am  going  to  school  again  in 
Chicago  this  winter.  I  shall  be  here  only  to-night. 
To-morrow  I  begin  to  study  again." 

"Going  to  school  again !"  ejaculated  Carol,  and  all 
the  others  looked  at  him  astonished.  "Going  to 
school  again.  Why,  you  know  enough,  now !" 

"Think  so?  Jhanks.  But  I  don't  know  what 
I'm  going  to  need  from  this  on.  I  am  changing 
my  line  of  work.  The  fact  is,  I'm  going  to  enter 


A  CLEAR  CALL  161 

the  ministry  myself,  and  will  have  a  couple  of 
years  in  a  theological  seminary  first." 

Utter  stupefaction  greeted  this  explanation.  Not 
one  word  was  spoken. 

"I've  been  going  into  these  things  rather  deeply 
the  last  two  years.  I've  attended  a  good  many  spe- 
cial meetings,  and  taken  some  studies  along  with  my 
regular  work.  For  a  year  I've  felt  it  would  finally 
come  to  this,  but  I  preferred  my  own  job,  and  I 
thought  I  would  stick  it  out,  as  Carol  says.  But 
I've  decided  to  quit  balking,  and  answer  the  call." 

Aunt  Grace  nodded,  with  a  warmly  approving 
smile. 

"I  think  it's  perfectly  grand,  Professor,"  said 
Fairy  earnestly.  "Perfectly  splendid.  You  will 
do  it  wonderfully  well,  I  know,  and  be  a 'big  help— 
in  our  business." 

"But,  Professor,"  said  Carol  faintly  and  falter- 
ingly,  "didn't  you  tell  me  you  were  to  get  five  thou- 
sand dollars  a  year  with  the  institute  from  this 
on?" 

"Yes.     I  was." 

Carol  gazed  at  her  family  despairingly.  "It 
would  take  an  awfully  loud  call  to  drown  the  chink 


162  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

of  five  thousand  gold  dollars  in  my  ears,  I  am 
afraid." 

"It  was  a  loud  call,"  he  said.  And  he  looked  at 
her  curiously,  for  of  all  the  family  she  alone  seemed 
distrait  and  unenthusiastic. 

"Professor,"  she  continued  anxiously,  "I  heard 
one  of  the  bishops  say  that  sometimes  young  men 
thought  they  were  called  to  the  ministry  when  it 
was  too  much  mince  pie  for  dinner." 

"I  did  not  have  mince  pie  for  dinner,"  he  an- 
swered, smiling,  but  conscious  of  keen  disappoint- 
ment in  his  friend. 

"But,  Professor,"  she  argued,  "can't  people  do 
good  without  preaching?  Think  of  all  the  lovely 
things  you  could  do  with  five  thousand  dollars! 
Think  of  the  influence  a  prominent  educator  has! 
Think  of—" 

"I  have  thought  of  it,  all  of  it.  But  haven't  I 
got  to  answer  the  call?" 

"It  takes  nerve  to  do  it,  too,"  said  Connie  ap- 
provingly. "I  know  just  how  it  is  from  my  own 
experience.  Of  course,  I  haven't  been  called  to 
enter  the  ministry,  but — it  works  out  the  same  in 
other  things." 


A  CLEAR  CALL  163 

"Indeed,  Professor,"  said  Lark,  "we  always  said 
you  were  too  nice  for  any  ordinary  job.  And  the 
ministry  is  about  the  only  extraordinary  job  there 
is!" 

"Tell  us  all  about  it,"  said  Fairy  cordially.  "We 
are  so  interested  in  it.  Of  course,  we  think  it  is 
the  finest  work  in  the  world."  She  looked  reproach- 
fully at  Carol,  but  Carol  made  no  response. 

He  told  them,  then,  something  of  his  plan,  which 
was  very  simple.  He  had  arranged  for  a  special 
course  at  the  seminary  in  Chicago,  and  then  would 
enter  the  ministry  like  any  other  young  man  start- 
ing upon  his  life-work.  "I'm  a  Presbyterian,  you 
know,"  he  said.  "I'll  have  to  go  around  and  preach 
until  I  find  a  church  willing  to  put  up  with  me.  I 
won't  have  a  presiding  elder  to  make  a  niche  for 
me." 

He  talked  frankly,  even  with  enthusiasm,  but  al- 
ways he  felt  the  curious  disappointment  that  Carol 
sat  there  silent,  her  eyes  upon  the  hands  in  her  lap. 
Once  or  twice  she  lifted  them  swiftly  to  his  face, 
and  lowered  them  instantly  again.  Only  he  noticed 
when  they  were  raised,  that  they  were  unusually 
deep,  and  that  something  lay  within  shining  bright- 


1 64  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

ly,  like  the  reflection  of  a  star  in  a  clear  dark  pool 
of  water. 

"I  must  go  now,"  he  said,  "I  must  have  a  little 
visit  with  my  uncle,  I  just  wanted  to  see  you,  and 
tell  you  about  it.  I  knew  you  would  like  it." 

Carol's  hand  was  the  first  placed  in  his,  and  she 
murmured  an  inaudible  word  of  farewell,  her  eyes 
downcast,  and  turned  quickly  away.  "Don't  let 
them  wait  for  me,"  she  whispered  to  Lark,  and 
then  she  disappeared. 

The  professor  turned  away  from  the  hospitable 
door  very  much  depressed.  He  shook  his  head  im- 
patiently and  thrust  his  hands  deep  into  his  pockets 
like  a  troubled  boy.  Half-way  down  the  board 
walk  he  stopped,  and  smiled.  Carol  was  standing 
among  the  rose  bushes,  tall  and  slim  in  the  cloudy 
moonlight,  waiting  for  him.  She  held  out  her  hand 
with  a  friendly  smile. 

"I  came  to  take  you  a  piece  if  you  want  me," 
she  said.  "It's  so  hard  to  talk  when  there's  a  room- 
ful, isn't  it?  I  thought  maybe  you  wouldn't  mind." 

"Mind?  It  was  dear  of  you  to  think  of  it,"  he 
said  gratefully,  drawing  her  hand  into  the  curve  of 


A  CLEAR  CALL  165 

his  arm.  "I  was  wishing  I  could  talk  with  you 
alone.  You  won't  be  cold?" 

"Oh,  no,  I  like  to  be  out  in  the  night  air.  Oh," 
she  protested,  when  he  turned  north  from  the  par- 
sonage instead  of  south,  as  he  should  have  gone, 
"I  only  came  for  a  piece,  you  know.  And  you  want 
to  visit  with  your  uncle."  The  long  lashes  hid 
Ihe  twinkle  the  professor  knew  was  there,  though 
he  could  not  see  it. 

"Yes,  all  right.  But  we'll  walk  a  little  way  first. 
I'll  visit  him  later  on.  Or  I  can  write  him  a  letter 
if  necessary."  He  felt  at  peace  with  all  the  world. 
His  resentment  toward  Carol  had  vanished  at  the 
first  glimpse  of  her  friendly  smile. 

"I  want  to  talk  to  you  about  being  a  preacher, 
you  know.  I  think  it  is  the  most  wonderful  thing  in 
the  world,  I  certainly  do."  Her  eyes  were  upon 
his  face  now  seriously.  "I  didn't  say  much,  I  was 
surprised,  and  I  was  ashamed,  too,  Professor,  for  I 
never  could  do  it  in  the  world.  Never!  It  always 
makes  me  feel  cheap  and  exasperated  when  I  see 
how  much  nicer  other  folks  are  than  I.  But  I  do 
think  it  is  wonderful.  Really  sometimes,  I  have 


1 66  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

thought  you  ought  to  be  a  preacher,  because  you're 
so  nice.  So  many  preachers  aren't,  and  that's  the 
kind  we  need." 

The  professor  put  his  other  hand  over  Carol's, 
which  was  restlessly  fingering  the  crease  in  his 
sleeve.  He  did  not  speak.  Her  girlish,  impulsive 
words  touched  him  very  deeply. 

"I  wouldn't  want  the  girls  to  know  it,  they'd  think 
it  was  so  funny,  but — "  She  paused  uncertainly, 
and  looked  questioningly  into  his  face.  "Maybe 
you  won't  understand  what  I  mean,  but  sometimes 
I'd  like  to  be  good  myself.  Awfully  good,  I  mean." 
She  smiled  whimsically.  "Wouldn't  Connie  scream 
if  she  could  hear  that?  Now  you  won't  give  me 
away,  will  you?  But  I  mean  it.  I  don't  think  of  it 
very  often,  but  sometimes,  why,  Professor,  honestly, 
I  wouldn't  care  if  I  were  as  good  as  Prudence !"  She 
paused  dramatically,  and  the  professor  pressed  the 
slender  hand  more  closely  in  his. 

"Oh,  I  don't  worry  about  it.  I  suppose  one  hasn't 
any  business  to  expect  a  good  complexion  and  just 
natural  goodness,  both  at  once,  but — "  She  smiled 
again.  "Five  thousand  dollars,"  she  added  dream- 


A  CLEAR  CALL  167 

ily.  "Five  thousand  dollars !  What  shall  I  call  you 
now?  P'fesser  is  not  appropriate  any  more,  is  it?" 
"Call  me  David,  won't  you,  Carol?  Or  Dave." 
Carol  gasped.  "Oh,  mercy!  What  would  Pru- 
dence say?"  She  giggled  merrily.  "Oh,  mercy!" 
She  was  silent  a  moment  then.  "I'll  have  lo  be  con- 
tented with  plain  Mr.  Duke,  I  suppose,  until  you  get 
a  D.D.  Duckie,  D.D,"  she  added  laughingly.  But 
in  an  instant  she  was  sober  again.  "I  do  love  our 
job.  If  I  were  a  man  I'd  be  a  minister  myself. 
Reverend  Carol  Starr,"  she  said  loftily,  then  laugh- 
ed. Carol's  laughter  always  followed  fast  upon 
her  earnest  words.  "Reverend  Carol  Starr. 
Wouldn't  I  be  a  peach?" 

He  laughed,  too,  recovering  his  equanimity  as 
her  customary  buoyant  brightness  returned  to  her. 
"You  are,"  he  said,  and  Carol  answered: 
"Thanks,"  very  dryly.    "We  must  go  back  now," 
she  added  presently.      And  they  turned  at  once, 
walking  slowly  back  toward  the  parsonage. 

"Can't  you  write  to  me  a  little  oftener,  Carol?  I 
hate  to  be  a  bother,  but  my  uncle  never  writes  let- 
ters, and  I  like  to  know  how  my  friends  here  are 


i68  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

getting  along,  marriages,  and  deaths,  and  just  plain 
gossip.  I'll  like  it  very  much  if  you  can.  I  do  en- 
joy a  good  correspondence  with — " 

"Do  you?"  she  asked  sweetly.  "How  you  have 
changed!  When  I  was  a  freshman  I  remember 
you  told  me  you  received  nothing  but  business  let- 
ters, because  you  didn't  want  to  take  time  to  write 
letters,  and — " 

"Did  I?"  For  a  second  he  seemed  a  little  con- 
fused. "Well,  I'm  not  crazy  about  writing  letters, 
as  such.  But  I'll  be  so  glad  to  get  yours  that  I 
know  I'll  even  enjoy  answering  them." 

Inside  the  parsonage  gate  they  stood  a  moment 
among  the  rose  bushes.  Once  again  she  offered 
her  hand,  and  he  took  it  gravely,  looking  with  sober 
intentness  into  her  face,  a  little  pale  in  the  moon- 
light. He  noted  again  the  royal  little  head  with  its 
grown-up  crown  of  hair,  and  the  slender  figure  with 
its  grown-up  length  of  skirt. 

Then  he  put  his  arms  around  her,  and  kissed  her 
warmly  upon  the  childish  unexpecting  lips. 

A  swift  red  flooded  her  face,  and  receding  as 
Swiftly,  left  her  pale.  Her  lips  quivered  a  little,  and 
she  caught  her  hands  together.  Then  sturdily,  and. 


A  CLEAR  CALL  169 

only  slightly  tremulous,  she  looked  into  his  eyes 
and  laughed.  The  professor  was  in  nowise  deceived 
by  her  attempt  at  light-heartedness,  remembering 
as  he  did  the  quick  quivering  of  the  lips  beneath 
his,  and  the  unconscious  yielding  of  the  sup- 
ple body  in  his  arms.  He  condemned  himself  men- 
tally in  no  uncertain  terms  for  having  yielded  to  the 
temptation  of  her  young  loveliness.  Carol  still 
laughed,  determined  by  her  merriment  to  set  the  seal 
of  insignificance  upon  the  act. 

"Come  and  walk  a  little  farther,  Carol,"  he  said 
in  a  low  voice.  "I  want  to  say  something  else." 
Then  after  a  few  minutes  of  silence,  he  began  rather 
awkardly,  and  David  Arnold  Duke  was  not  usually 
awkward : 

"Carol,  you'll  think  I'm  a  cad  to  say  what  I'm 
going  to,  after  doing  what  I  have  just  done,  but 
I'll  have  to  risk  that.  You  shouldn't  let  men  kiss 
you.  It  isn't  right.  You're  too  pretty  and  sweet  and 
fine  for  it.  I  know  you  don't  allow  it  commonly, 
but  don't  at  all.  I  hate  to  think  of  any  one  even 
touching  a  girl  like  you." 

Carol  leaned  forward,  tilting  back  her  head,  and 
looking  up  at  him  roguishly,  her  face  a-sparkle, 


1 70  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

He  blushed  more  deeply.  "Oh,  I  know  it,"  he 
said.  "I'm  ashamed  of  myself.  But  I  can't  help 
what  you  think  of  me.  I  do  think  you  shouldn't 
let  them,  and  I  hope  you  won't.  They're  sure  to 
want  to." 

"Yes,"  she  said  quietly,  very  grown-up  indeed 
just  then,  "yes,  they  do.  Aren't  men  funny?  They 
always  want  to.  Sometimes  we  hear  old  women 
say,  'Men  are  all  alike.'  I  never  believe  it.  I  hate 
old  women  who  say  it.  But — are  they  all  alike, 
Professor?" 

"No,"  he  said  grimly,  "they  are  not.  But  I  sup- 
pose any  man  would  like  to  kiss  a  girl  as  sweet  as 
you  are.  But  men  are  not  all  alike.  Don't  you 
believe  it.  You  won't  then,  will  you?" 

"Won't  believe  it?    No." 

"I  mean,"  he  said,  almost  stammering  in  his  con- 
fusion, "I  mean  you  won't  let  them  touch  you." 

Carol  smiled  teasingly,  but  in  a  moment  she  spoke, 
and  very  quietly.  "P'fessor,  I'll  tell  you  a  blood-red 
secret  if  you  swear  up  and  down  you'll  never  tell 
anybody.  I've  never  told  even  Lark — Well,  one 
night,  when  I  was  a  sophomore,' — do  you  remember 
Bud  Garvin?" 


A  CLEAR  CALL  171 

"Yes,  tall  fellow  with  black  hair  and  eyes,  wasn't 
he  ?  In  the  freshman  zoology  class." 

"Yes.  Well,  he  took  me  home  from  a  party. 
Hartley  took  Lark,  and  they  got  in  first.  And  Bud, 
well — he  put  his  arm  around  me,  and — maybe  you 
don't  know  it,  Professor,  but  there's  a  big  difference 
in  girls,  too.  Now  some  girls  are  naturally  good. 
Prudence  is,  and  so's  Lark.  But  Fairy  and  I — well, 
we've  got  a  lot  of  the  original  Adam  in  us.  Most 
girls,  especially  in  books — nice  girls,  I  mean,  and 
you  know  I'm  nice — they  can't  bear  to  have  boys 
touch  them. — P'fessor,  I  like  it,  honestly  I  do,  if  I 
like  the  boy.  Bud's  rather  nice,  and  I  let  him — oh, 
just  a  little,  but  it  made  me  nervous  and  excited. 
But  I  liked  it.  Prudence  was  away,  and  I  hated  to 
talk  to  Lark  that  night  so  I  sneaked  in  Fairy's  room 
and  asked  if  I  might  sleep  with  her.  She  said  I 
could,  and  told  me  to  turn  on  the  light,  it  wouldn't 
disturb  her.  But  I  was  so  hot  I  didn't  want  any 
light,  so  I  undressed  as  fast  as  I  could  and  crept  in. 
Somehow,  from  the  way  I  snuggled  up  to  Fairy,  she 
caught  on.  I  was  out  of  breath,  really  I  was 
ashamed  of  myself,  but  I  wasn't  just  sure  then 
whether  I'd  ever  let  him  put  his  arm  around  me 


1 72  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

again  or  not.  But  Fairy  turned  over,  and  began  to 
talk.  Professor,"  she  said  solemnly,  "Fairy  and  I 
always  pretend  to  be  snippy  and  sarcastic  and  sneer 
at  each  other,  but  in  my  heart,  I  think  Fairy  is  very 
nearly  as  good  as  Prudence,  yes,  sir,  I  do.  Why, 
Fairy's  fine,  she's  just  awfully  fine." 

"Yes,  I'm  sure  she  is." 

"She  said  that  once,  when  she  was  fifteen,  one  of 
the  boys  at  Exminster  kissed  her  good  night.  And 
she  didn't  mind  it  a  bit.  But  father  was  putting  the 
horses  in  the  barn,  and  he  came  out  just  in  time  to 
see  it;  it  was  a  moonlight  night.  After  the  boys  had 
gone,  father  hurried  in  and  took  Fairy  outdoors  for 
a  little  talk,  just  the  two  of  them  alone.  He  said  that 
in  all  the  years  he  and  my  mother  were  married, 
every  time  he  kissed  her  he  remembered  that  no  man 
but  he  had  ever  touched  her  lips,  and  it  made  him 
happy.  He  said  he  was  always  sort  of  thanking  God 
inside,  whenever  he  held  her  in  his  arms.  He  said 
nothing  else  in  the  world  made  a  man  so  proud,  and 
glad  and  grateful,  as  to  know  his  wife  was  all  his 
own,  and  that  even  her  lips  had  been  reserved  for 
him  like  a  sacred  treasure  that  no  one  else  could 
share.  He  said  it  would  take  the  meanest  man  on 


A  CLEAR  CALL  1173 

earth,  and  father  thinks  there  aren't  many  as  mean 
as  that,  to  go  back  on  a  woman  like  that. 
Fairy  said  she  burst  out  crying  because  her  husband 
wouldn't  ever  be  able  to  feel  that  way  when  he  kissed 
her.  But  father  said  since  she  was  so  young,  and 
innocent,  and  it  being  the  first  time,  it  wouldn't 
really  count.  Fairy  swore  off  that  minute, — never 
again!  Of  course,  when  I  knew  how  father  felt 
about  mother,  I  wanted  my  husband  to  have  as  much 
pleasure  in  me  as  father  did  in  her,  and  Fairy  and  I 
made  a  solemn  resolve  that  we  would  never, 
even  'hold  hands/  and  that's  very  simple,  until 
we  got  crazy  enough  about  a  man  to  think  we'd  like 
to  marry  him  if  we  got  a  chance.  And  I  never  have 
since  then,  not  once." 

"Carol,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice,  "I  wish  I  had 
known  it.  I  wouldn't  have  kissed  you  for  anything. 
God  knows  I  wouldn't.  I — I  think  I  am  man 
enough  not  to  have  done  it  anyhow  if  I  had  only 
thought  a  minute,  but  God  knows  I  wouldn't  have 
done  it  if  I  had  known  about  this.  You  don't  know 
how — contemptible — I  feel." 

"Oh,  that's  all  right,"  she  said  comfortingly,  her 
eyes  glowing.  "That's  all  right.  We  just  meant 


.174  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

beaux,  you  know.  We  didn't  include  uncles,  and 
fathers,  and  old  school-teachers,  and  things  like  that. 
You  don't  count.  That  isn't  breaking  my  pledge." 

The  professor  smiled,  but  he  remembered  the 
quivering  lips,  and  the  relaxing  of  the  lithe  body, 
and  the  forced  laughter,  and  was  not  deceived. 

"You're  such  a  strange  girl,  Carol.  You're  so 
honest,  usually,  so  kind-hearted,  so  generous.  But 
you  always  seem  trying  to  make  yourself  look  bad, 
not  physically,  that  isn't  what  I  mean."  Carol 
smiled,  and  her  loving  finger s%caressed  her  soft 
cheek.  "But  you  try  to  make  folks  think  you  are 
vain  and  selfish,  when  you  are  not.  Why  do  you 
do  it  ?  Every  one  knows  what  you  really  are.  All 
over  Mount  Mark  they  say  you  are  the  best  little 
kid  in  town." 

"They  do!"  she  said  indignantly.  "Well,  they'd 
better  not.  Here  I've  spent  years  building  up  my 
reputation  to  suit  myself,  and  then  they  go  and 
shatter  me  like  that.  They'd  better  leave  me  alone." 

"But  what's  the  object?" 

"Why,  you  know,  P'fessor,"  she  said,  carefully 
choosing  her  words,  "you  know,  it's  a  pretty  hard 
job  living  up  to  a  good  reputation.  Look  at  Pru- 


A  CLEAR  CALL  175 

dence,  and  Fairy,  and  Lark.  Every  one  just 
naturally  expects  them  to  be  angelically  and  disheart- 
eningly  good.  And  if  they  aren't,  folks  talk.  But 
take  me  now.  No  one  expects  anything  of  me,  and 
if  once  in  a  while,  I  do  happen  to  turn  out  all  right 
by  accident,  it's  a  sort  of  joyful  surprise  to  the  whole 
community.  It's  lots  more  fun  surprising  folks  by 
being  better  than  they  expect,  than  shocking  them 
by  turning  out  worse  than  they  think  you  will." 

"But  it  doesn't  do  you  any  good,"  he  assured  her. 
"You  can't  fool  them.  Mount  Mark  knows  its 
Carol." 

"You're  not  going  ?"  she  said,  as  he  released  her 
hand  and  straightened  the  collar  of  his  coat. 

"Yes,  your  father  will  chase  me  off  if  I  don't  go 
now.  How  about  the  letters,  Carol  ?  Think  you  can 
manage  a  little  oftener?" 

"I'd  love  to.  It's  so  inspiring  to  get  a  letter  from 
a  five-thousand-dollars-a-year  scientist,  I  mean,  a 
was-once.  Do  my  letters  sound  all  right?  I  don't 
want  to  get  too  chummy,  you  know." 

"Get  as  chummy  as  you  can,"  he  urged  her.  "I 
enjoy  it." 

"I'll  have  to  be  more  dignified  if  you're  going  to 


176  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

McCormick.  Presbyterian !  The  Presbyterians  are 
very  dignified.  I'll  have  to  be  formal  from  this  on. 
Dear  Sir:  Respectfully  yours.  Is  that  proper?" 

He  took  her  hands  in  his.  "Good-by,  little  pal. 
Thank  you  for  coming  out,  and  for  telling  me  the 
things  you  have.  You  have  done  me  good.  You 
are  a  breath  of  fresh  sweet  air." 

"It's  my  powder,"  she  said  complacently.  "It 
does  smell  good,  doesn't  it?  It  cost  a  dollar  a  box. 
I  borrowed  the  dollar  from  Aunt  Grace.  Don't  let 
on  before  father.  He  thinks  we  use  Mennen's  baby 
— twenty-five  cents  a  box.  We  didn't  tell  him  so, 
but  he  just  naturally  thinks  it.  It  was  the  breath  of 
that  dollar  powder  you  were  talking  about." 

She  moved  her  fingers  slightly  in  his  hand,  and  he 
looked  down  at  them.  Then  he  lifted  them  and 
looked  again,  admiring  the  slender  fingers  and  the 
pink  nails. 

"Don't  look,"  she  entreated.  "They're  teaching 
me  things.  I  can't  help  it.  This  spot  on  my  thumb 
is  fried  egg,  here  are  three  doughnuts  on  my  arm, — 
see  them?  And  here's  a  regular  pancake."  She 
pointed  out  the  pancake  in  her  palm,  sorrowfully. 

".Teaching  you  things,  are  they?" 


A  CLEAR  CALL  177 

"Yes.  I  have  to  3am.  Look  at  tfie  tips  of  my 
fingers,  that's  where  the  needle  rusted  off  on  me. 
Here's  where  I  cut  a  slice  of  bread  out  of  my 
thumb!  Isn't  life  serious?" 

"Yes,  very  serious."  He  looked  thoughtfully 
down  at  her  hands  again  as  they  lay  curled  up  in  his 
own.  "Very,  very  serious." 

"Good-by." 

"Good-by."  He  held  her  hand  a  moment 
longer,  and  then  turned  suddenly  away.  She 
watched  until  he  was  out  of  sight,  and  then  slipped 
up-stairs,  undressed  in  the  dark  and  crept  in  between 
the  covers.  Lark  apparently  was  sound  asleep. 
Carol  giggled  softly  to  herself  a  few  times,  and  Lark 
opened  one  eye,  asking,  "What's  amatter?" 

"Oh,  such  a  good  joke  on  p'fessor,"  whispered 
Carol,  squeezing  her  twin  with  rapture.  "He 
doesn't  know  it  yet,  but  he'll  be  so  disgusted  with 
himself  when  he  finds  it  out." 

"What  in  the  world  is  it?"  Lark  was  more  co- 
herent now. 

"I  can't  tell,  Lark,  But  it's  a  dandy.  My,  he'll 
feel  cheap  when  he  finds  out." 

"Mavbe  he  won't  find  it  out." 


j;8  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

"Oh,  yes,  he  will,"  was  the  confident  answer,  "I'll 
see  that  he  does."  She  began  laughing  again. 

"What  is  it?" 

"I  can't  tell  you,  but  you'll  certainly  scream  if  you 
ever  do  know  it" 

"You  can't  tell  me  ?"  Lark  was  wide  awake,  and 
quite  aghast. 

"No,  I  can't,  I  truly  can't." 

Lark  drew  away  from  the  encircling  arm  with  as 
much  dignity  as  could  be  expressed  in  the  dark  and 
in  bed,  and  sent  out  a  series  of  deep  breaths,  as  if 
to  indicate  that  snores  were  close  at  hand. 

Carol  laughed  to  herself  for  a  while,  until  Lark 
really  slept,  then  she  buried  her  head  in  the  pillow 
and  her  throat  swelled  with  sobs  that  were  heavy 
but  soundless. 

The  next  morning  was  Lark's  turn  for  making 
the  bed.  And  when  she  shook  up  Carol's  pillow  she 
found  it  was  very  damp. 

"Why,  the  little  goose,"  she  said  to  herself,  smil- 
ing, "she  laughed  until  she  cried,  all  by  herself.  And 
then  she  turned  the  pillow  over  thinking  I  wouldn't 
see  it.  The  little  goose!  And  what  on  earth  was 
she  laughing  at?" 


CHAPTER  X 

JERRY  JUNIOR 

FOR  some  time  the  twins  ignored  the  atmosphere 
of  solemn  mystery  which  pervaded  their  once 
so  cheerful  home.  But  when  it  finally  reached  the 
limit  of  their  endurance  they  marched  in  upon  their 
aunt  and  Fairy  with  an  admirable  admixture  of 
dignity  and  indignation  in  their  attitude. 

"Who's  haunted?"  inquired  Carol  abruptly. 

"Where's  the  criminal?"  demanded  Lark. 

"Yes,  little  twins,  talk  English  and  maybe  you'll 
learn  something."  And  for  the  moment  the  anx- 
ious light  in  Fairy's  eyes  gave  way  to  a  twinkle. 
Sad  indeed  was  the  day  when  Fairy  could  not  laugh 
at  the  twins. 

"Then,  in  common  vernacular,  though  it  is  really 
beneath  us,  what's  up?" 

Fairy  turned  innocently  inquiring  eyes  toward  the 
ceiling.  "Wh?*  indeed?" 

179 


i  So  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

"Oh,  don't  try  to  be  dramatic,  Fairy,"  counseled 
Lark.  "You're  too  fat  for  a  star-Starr." 

The  twins  beamed  at  each  other  approvingly  at 
this,  and  Fairy  smiled.  But  Carol  returned  prompt- 
ly to  the  charge.  "Are  Jerry  and  Prudence  having 
domestic  difficulties?  There's  something  going  on, 
and  we  want  to  know.  Father  looks  like  a  fallen 
Samson,  and — " 

"A  fallen  Samson,  Carol!  Mercy!  Where  did 
you  get  it?" 

"Yes,  kind  of  sheepish,  and  ashamed,  and  yet 
hopeful  of  returning  strength.  That's  art,  a  simile 
like  that  is. — Prudence  writes  every  day,  and  you 

Hide  the  letters.     And  Aunt  Grace  sneaks  around 

n  ; 

like  a  convict  with  her  hand  under  her  apron.  And 
you  look  as  heavy-laden  as  if  you  were  carrying 
Connie's  conscience  around  with  you." 

Aunt  Grace  looked  at  Fairy,  Fairy  looked  at  Aunt 
Grace.  Aunt  Grace  raised  her  eyebrows.  Fairy 
hesitated,  nodded,  smiled.  Slowly  then  Aunt  Grace 
8rew  one  hand  from  beneath  her  apron  and  showed 
fo  the  eagerly  watching  twins,  a  tiny,  hand  embroid- 
fered  dress.  They  stared  at  it,  fascinated,  half 


JERRY  JUNIOR  181 

frightened,  and  then  looked  into  the  serious  faces 
of  their  aunt  and  sister. 

"I— I  don't  believe  it,"  whispered  Carol.  "She's 
not  old  enough." 

Aunt  Grace  smiled. 

"She's  older  than  mother  was,"  said  Fairy. 

Lark  took  the  little  dress  and  examined  it  criti- 
cally. "The  neck's  too  small,"  she  announced 
decidedly.  "Nothing  could  wear  that" 

"We're  using  this  for  a  pattern,"  said  Fairy, 
lifting  a  yellowed,  much  worn  garment  from  the 
sewing  basket.  "I  wore  this,  and  so  did  you  and  so 
did  Connie, — my  lovely  child." 

Carol  rubbed  her  hand  about  her  throat  in  a  puz- 
zled way.  "I  can't  seem  to  realize  that  we  ever  grew 
out  of  that,"  she  said  slowly.  "Is  Prudence  all 
right?" 

"Yes,  just  fine." 

The  twins  looked  at  each  other  bashfully.  Then, 
"I'll  bet  there'll  be  no  living  with  Jerry  after  this," 
said  Lark. 

"Oh,  papa,"  lisped  Carol,  in  a  high-pitched  voice 
supposed  to  represent  the  tone  of  a  little  child.  They 


1 82  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

both  giggled,  and  blinked  hard  to  crowd  back  the 
tears  that  wouldn't  stay  choked  down.  Prudence! 
And  that! 

"And  see  here,  twins,  Prudence  has  a  crazy  notion 
that  she  wants  to  come  home  for  it.  She  says  she'll 
be  scared  in  a  hospital,  and  Jerry's  willing  to  come 
here  with  her.  What  do  you  think  about  it?" 

The  twins  looked  doubtful.  "They  say  it  ought 
to  be  done  in  a  hospital,"  announced  Carol  gravely. 
"Jerry  can  afford  it." 

"Yes,  he  wanted  to.  But  Prudence  has  set  her 
heart  on  coming  home.  She  says  she'll  never  feel 
that  Jerry  Junior,  got  the  proper  start  if  it  happens 
any  place  else.  They'll  have  a  trained  nurse." 

"Jerry — what?"  gasped  the  twins,  after  a  short 
silence  due  to  amazement. 

"Jerry  Junior, — that's  what  they  call  it." 

"But  how  on  earth  do  they  know  ?" 

"They  don't  know.  But  they  have  to  call  it 
something,  haven't  they?  And  they  want  a  Jerry 
Junior.  So  of  course  they'll  get  it.  For  Prudence 
is  good  enough  to  get  whatever  she  wants." 

"Hum,  that's  no  sign,"  sniffed  Carol.  "I  don't 
get  everything  I  want,  do  I?" 


JERRY  JUNIOR  183 

The  girls  laughed,  from  habit  not  'from  genuine 
interest,  at  Carol's  subtle  insinuation. 

"Well,  shall  we  have  her  come?" 

"Yes,"  said  Carol,  "but  you  tell  Prue  she  needn't 
expect  me  to  hold  it  until  it  gets  too  big  to  wiggle. 
I  call  them  nasty,  treacherous  little  things.  Mrs. 
Miller  made  me  hold  hers,  and  it  squirmed  right  off 
my  knee.  I  wanted  to  spank  it." 

"And  tell  Prudence  to  uphold  the  parsonage  and 
have  a  white  one,"  added  Lark.  "These  little  Indian 
effects  don't  make  a  hit  with  me." 

"Are  you  going  to  tell  Connie?" 

"I  don't  think  so — yet.    Connie's  only  fourteen." 

"You  tell  her."  Carol's  voice  was  emphatic. 
"There's  nothing  mysterious  about  it  Everybody 
does  it.  And  Connie  may  have  a  few  suggestions 
of  her  own  to  offer.  You  tell  Prue  I'm  thinking  out 
a  lot  of  good  advice  for  her,  and — " 

"You  must  write  her  yourselves.  She  wanted  us 
to  tell  you  long  before."  Fairy  picked  up  the  little 
embroidered  dress  and  kissed  it,  but  her  fond  eyes 
were  anxious. 

So  a  few  weeks  later,  weeks  crowded  full  of  tu- 
mult and  anxiety,  yes,  and  laughter,  too,  Prudence 


1 84  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

and  Jerry  came  to  Mount  Mark  and  settled  down 
to  quiet  life  in  the  parsonage.  The  girls  kissed 
Prudence  very  often,  leaped  quickly  to  do  her  er- 
rands, and  touched  her  with  nervous  fingers.  But 
mostly  they  sat  across  the  room  and  regarded  her 
curiously,  shyly,  quite  maternally. 

"Carol  and  Lark  Starr,"  Prudence  cried  crossly 
one  day,  when  she  intercepted  one  of  these  surrep- 
titious glances,  "you  march  right  up-stairs  and  shut 
yourselves  up  for  thirty  minutes.  And  if  you  ever 
sit  around  and  stare  at  me  like  a  stranger  again,  I'll 
spank  you  both.  I'm  no  outsider.  I  belong  here  just 
as  much  as  ever  I  did.  And  I'm  still  the  head  of 
things  around  here,  too !" 

The  twins  obediently  marched,  and  after  that 
Prudence  was  more  like  Prudence,  and  the  twins 
were  much  more  twinnish,  so  that  life  was  very 
nearly  normal  in  the  old  parsonage.  Prudence  said 
she  couldn't  feel  quite  satisfied  because  the  twins 
$rere  too  old  to  be  punished,  but  she  often  scolded 
them  in  her  gentle  teasing  way,  and  the  twins  en- 
Joyed  it  more  than  anything  else  that  Happened 
during  those  days  of  quiet. 

Then  came  a  night  when  the  four  sisters  huddled 


JERRY  JUNIOR  185 

breathlessly  in  the  kitchen,  and  Aunt  Grace  and  the 
trained  nurse  stayed  with  Prudence  behind  the  closed 
door  of  the  front  room  up-stairs.  And  the  doctor 
went  in,  too,  after  he  had  inflicted  a  few  light- 
hearted  remarks  upon  the  two  men  in  the  little 
library. 

After  that — silence,  an  immense  hushing  silence, 
— settled  down  over  the  parsonage.  Jerry  and  Mr. 
Starr,  alone  in  the  library,  where  a  faint  odor  of 
drugs,  anesthetics,  something  that  smelled  like  hosr 
pitals  lingered,  stared  away  from  each  other  with 
persistent  determination.  Now  and  then  Jerry 
walked  across  the  room,  but  Mr.  Starr  stood  motion- 
less by  the  window  looking  down  at  the  cherry  tree 
beneath  him,  wondering  vaguely  how  it  dared  to  be 
so  full  of  snowy  blooms! 

"Where  are  the  girls?"  Jerry  asked,  picking  up 
a  roll  of  cotton  which  had  been  left  on  the  library 
table,  and  flinging  it  from  him  as  though  it  scorched 
his  fingers. 

"I — think  I'll  go  and  see,"  said  Mr.  Starr,  turning 
heavily. 

Jerry  hesitated  a  minute.  "I — think  I'll  go 
along,"  he  said. 


186  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

For  an  instant  their  eyes  met,  sympathetically, 
and  did  not  smile  though  their  lips  curved. 

Down  in  the  kitchen,  meanwhile,  Fairy  sat  som- 
berly beside  the  table  with  a  pile  of  darning  which 
she  jabbed  at  viciously  with  the  needle.  Lark  was 
perched  on  the  ice  chest,  but  Carol,  true  to  her 
childish  instincts,  hunched  on  the  floor  with  her  feet 
curled  beneath  her.  Connie  leaned  against  the  table 
within  reach  of  Fairy's  hand. 

"They're  awfully  slow,"  she  complained  once. 

Nobody  answered.  The  deadly  silence  clutched 
them. 

"Oh,  talk,"  Carol  blurted  out  desperately.  "You 
make  me  sick!  It  isn't  anything  to  be  so  awfully 
scared  about.  Everybody  does  it." 

A  little  mumble  greeted  this,  and  then,  silence 
again.  Whenever  it  grew  too  painful,  Carol  said 
reproachfully,  "Everybody  does  it."  And  no  one 
ever  answered. 

They  looked  up  expectantly  when  the  men  entered. 
It  seemed  cozier  somehow  when  they  were  all  to- 
gether in  the  little  kitchen. 

"Is  she  all  right?" 


JERRY  JUNIOR  187 

"Sure,  she's  all  right,"  came  the  bright  response 
from  their  father.  And  then  silence. 

"Oh,  you  make  me  sick,"  cried  Carol.  "Every- 
body does  it." 

"Carol  Starr,  if  you  say  'everybody  does  it'  again 
I'll  send  you  to  bed,"  snapped  Fairy.  "Don't  we 
know  everybody  does  it?  But  Prudence  isn't  every- 
body." 

"Maybe  we'd  better  have  a  lunch,"  suggested  their 
father  hopefully,  knowing  the  thought  of  food  often 
aroused  his  family  when  all  other  means  had  failed. 
But  his  suggestion  met  with  dark  reproach. 

"Father,  if  you're  hungry,  take  a  piece  of  bread 
out  into  the  woodshed,"  begged  Connie.  "If  any- 
body eats  anything  before  me  I  shall  jump  up  and 
down  and  scream." 

Their  father  smiled  faintly  and  gave  it  up.  After 
that  the  silence  was  unbroken  save  once  when  Carol 
began  encouragingly : 

"Every—" 

'"Sure  they  do,"  interrupted  Fairy  uncompro- 
misingly. 

And  then — the  hush. 


188  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

Long,  long  after  that,  when  the  girls'  eyes  were 
heavy,  not  with  want  of  sleep,  but  just  with  unspeak- 
able weariness  of  spirit, — they  heard  a  step  on  the 
stair. 

"Come  on  up,  Harmer,"  the  doctor  called.  And 
then,  "Sure,  she's  all  right  She's  fine  and  dandy,— 
both  of  them  are." 

Jerry  was  gone  in  an  instant,  and  Mr.  Starr  looked 
after  him  with  inscrutable  eyes.  "Fathers  are — only 
fathers,"  he  said  enigmatically. 

"Yes,"  agreed  Carol. 

"Yes.    In  a  crisis,  the  other  man  goes  first." 

His  daughters  turned  to  him  then,  tenderly, 
sympathetically. 

"You  had  your  turn,  father,"  Connie  consoled 
him.  And  felt  repaid  for  the  effort  when  he  smiled 
at  her. 

"They  are  both  fine,  you  know,"  said  Carol. 
"The  doctor  said  so." 

"We  heard  him,"  Fairy  assured  her. 

"Yes,  I  said  all  the  time  you  were  all  awfully 
silly  about  it.  I  knew  it  was  all  right.  Everybody 
does  it." 


JERRY  JUNIOR  189 

"Jerry  Junior,"  Lark  mused.  "He's  here. — 'Aunt 
Lark,  may  I  have  a  cooky  ?' ' 

A  few  minutes  later  the  door  was  carefully 
shoved  open  by  means  of  a  cautious  foot,  and  Jerry 
stood  before  them,  holding  in  his  arms  a  big  bundle 
of  delicately  tinted  flannel. 

"Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  he  began,  beaming  at 
them,  his  face  flushed,  his  eyes  bright,  embarrassed, 
but  thoroughly  satisfied.  Of  course,  Prudence  was 
the  dearest  girl  in  the  world,  and  he  adored  her, 
and — but  this  was  different,  this  was  Fatherhood! 

"Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  he  said  again  in  the  ten- 
der, half-laughing  voice  that  Prudence  loved,  "let 
me  introduce  to  you  my  little  daughter,  Fairy 
Harmer." 

"Not — not  Fairy!"  cried  Fairy,  Senior,  tearfully. 
"Oh,  Jerry,  I  don't  believe  it.  Not  Fairy!  You 
are  joking." 

"Of  course  it  is  Fairy,"  he  said.  "Look  out, 
Connie,  do  you  want  to  break  part  of  my  daughter 
off  the  first  thing?  Oh,  I  see.  It  was  just  the  flan- 
nel, was  it?  Well,  you  must  be  careful  of 
the  flannel,  for  when  ladies  are  the  size  of  this  one, 


190  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

you  can't  tell  which  is  flannel  and  which  is  foot. 
Fairy  Harmer !  Here,  grandpa,  what  do  you  think 
of  this?  And  Prudence  said  to  send  you  right  up- 
stairs, and  hurry.  And  the  girls  must  go  to  bed 
immediately  or  they'll  be  sick  to-morrow.  Prudence 
says  so." 

"Oh,  that's  enough.  That's  Prudence  all  over! 
You  needn't  tell  us  any  more.  Here,  Fairy  Harmer, 
let  us  look  at  you.  Hold  her  down,  Jerry.  Mercy ! 
Mercy!" 

"Isn't  she  a  beauty?"  boasted  the  young  father 
proudly. 

."A  beauty?  A  beauty!  That!"  Carol  rubbed 
her  slender  fingers  over  her  own  velvety  cheek. 
"They  talk  about  the  matchless  skin  of  a  new-born 
infant.  Thanks.  I'd  just  as  lief  have  my  own." 

"Oh,  she  isn't  acclimated  yet,  that's  all.  Do  you 
think  she  looks  like  me?" 

"No,  Jerry,  I  don't,"  said  Lark  candidly.  "I 
never  considered  you  a  dream  of  loveliness  by  any 
means,  but  in  due  honesty  I  must  admit  that  you 
don't  look  like  that." 

"Why,  it  hasn't  any  hair!"  Connie  protested. 

"Well,  give  it  time,"  urged  the  baby's  father.    "Be 


Let  me  introduce  to  you  my  little  daughter 


JERRY  JUNIOR  191 

reasonable,  Connie.  What  can  you  expect  in  fifteen 
minutes." 

"But  they  always  have  a  little  hair,"  she  insisted. 

"No,  indeed  they  don't,  Miss  Connie,"  he  said 
flatly.  "For  if  they  always  did,  ours  would  have. 
Now,  don't  try  to  let  on  there's  anything  the  matter 
with  her,  for  there  isn't. — Look  at  her  nose,  if  you 
don't  like  her  hair. — What  do  you  think  of  a  nose 
like  that  now  ?  Just  look  at  it." 

"Yes,  we're  looking  at  it,"  was  the  grim  reply. 

"And — and  chin, — look  at  her  chin.  See  here,  do 
you  mean  to  say  you  are  making  fun  of  Fairy  Har- 
mer?  Come  on,  tootsie,  we'll  go  back  up-stairs. 
They're  crazy  about  us  up  there." 

"Oh,  see  the  cunning  little  footies,"  crowed 
Connie. 

"Here,  cover  'em  up,"  said  Jerry  anxiously. 
"You  mustn't  let  their  feet  stick  out.  Prudence  says 
so.  It's  considered  very — er,  bad  form,  I  believe." 

"Fairy!  Honestly,  Jerry,  is  it  Fairy?  When 
did  you  decide  ?" 

"Oh,  a  long  time  ago,"  he  said,  "years  ago,  I 
guess.  You  see,  we  always  wanted  a  girl.  Prue 
didn't  think  she  had  enough  experience  with  the 


192  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

stronger  sex  yet,  and  of  course  I'm  strong  for  the 
ladies.  But  it  seems  that  what  you  want  is  what 
you  don't  get.  So  we  decided  to  call  her  Fairy  when 
she  came,  and  then  we  wanted  a  boy,  and  talked 
boy,  and  got  the  girl !  I  guess  it  always  works  just 
that  way,  if  you  manage  it  cleverly.  Come  now, 
Fairy,  you  needn't  wrinkle  up  that  smudge  of  a 
nose  at  me. — Let  go,  Connie,  it  is  my  daughter's 
bedtime.  There  now,  there  now,  baby,  was  she  her 
daddy's  little  girl?" 

Flushed  and  laughing,  Jerry  broke  away  from 
the  admiring,  giggling,  nearly  tearful  girls,  and 
hurried  up-stairs  with  Jerry  Junior. 

But  Fairy  stood  motionless  by  the  door.  "Pru- 
dence's baby,"  she  whispered.  "Little  Fairy  Har- 
mer ! — Mmmmmmm  1" 


CHAPTER  XI 


NOW  that  the  twins  had  attained  to  the  dig- 
nity of  eighteen  years,  and  were  respectable 
students  at  the  thoroughly  respectable  Presbyterian 
college,  they  had  dates  very  frequently.  And  it  was 
along  about  this  time  that  Mr.  Starr  developed  a 
sudden  interest  in  the  evening  callers  at  his  home. 
He  bobbed  up  unannounced  m  most  unexpected 
places  and  at  most  unexpected  hours.  He  walked 
about  the  house  with  a  sharp  sly  look  in  his  eyes, 
in  a  way  that  could  only  be  described  as  Carol  said, 
by  "downright  noisiness."  The  girls  discussed 
this  new  phase  of  his  character  when  they  were 
alone,  but  decided  not  to  mention  it  to  him,  for  fear 
of  hurting1  his  feelings.  "Maybe  he's  got  a  new 
kind  of  a  sermon  up  his  brain,"  said  Carol.  "Maybe 
he's  beginning  to  realize  that  his  clothes  are  wear- 
ing out  again,"  suggested  Lark.  "He's  too  young 

193 


194  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

for  second  childhood,"  Connie  thought.     So  they 
watched  him  curiously. 

Aunt  Grace,  too,  observed  this  queer  devotion  on 
the  part  of  the  minister,  and  finally  her  curiosity 
overcame  her  habit  of  keeping  silent. 

"William,"  she  said  gently,  "what's  the  matter 
with  you  lately?    Is  there  anything  on  your  mind?" 
Mr.  Starr  started  nervously.     "My  mind?     Of 
course  not.    Why?" 

"You  seem  to  be  looking  for  something.  You 
watch  the  girls  so  closely,  you're  always  hanging 
around,  and — " 

He  smiled  broadly.  "Thanks  for  that.  'Hang- 
ing around,'  in  my  own  parsonage.  That  is  the 
gratitude  of  a  loving  family!" 

Aunt  Grace  smiled.    "Well,  I  see  there's  nothing 
much  the  matter  with  you.     I  was  seriously  wor- 
ried. I  thought  there  was  something  wrong,  and — " 
"Sort  of  mentally  unbalanced,  is  that  it?    Oh,  no, 
I'm  just  watching  my  family." 

She  looked  up  quickly.  "^Watching  the  family! 
You  mean — " 

"Carol,"  he  said  briefly. 
"Carol!    ^You're  watching — >" 


THE  END  OF  FAIRY  195 

"Oh,  only  in  the  most  honorable  way,  of  course. 
You  see,"  he  gave  his  explanation  with  an  air  of 
relief,  "Prudence  always  says  I  must  keep  an  eye 
on  Carol.  She's  so  pretty,  and  the  boys  get  stuck 
on  her,  and — that's  what  Prudence  says.  I  forgot 
all  about  it  for  a  while.  But  lately  I  have  begun  to 
notice  that  the  boys  are  older,  and — we  don't  want 
Carol  falling  in  love  with  the  wrong  man.  I  got 
uneasy.  I  decided  to  watch  out.  I'm  the  head  of 
this  family,  you  know." 

"Such  an  idea!"  scoffed  Aunt  Grace,  who  was 
not  at  all  of  a  scoffing  nature. 

"Carol  was  born  for  lovers,  Prudence  says  so. 
And  these  men's  girls  have  to  be  watched,  or  the 
wrong  fellow  will  get  ahead,  and — " 

"Carol  doesn't  need  watching — not  any  more  at 
least." 

"I'm  not  really  watching  her,  you  know.  I'm 
just  keeping  my  eyes  open." 

"But  Carol's  all  right.  That's  one  time  Pru- 
dence was  away  off."  She  smiled  as  she  recognized 
a  bit  of  Carol's  slang  upon  her  lips.  "Don't  worry 
about  her.  You  needn't  keep  an  eye  on  her  any 
more.  She's  coming,  all  right." 


196  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

"You  don't  think  there's  any  danger  of  her  fall- 
ing in  love  with  the  wrong  man  ?" 

"No." 

'There  aren't  many  worth-having  fellows  in 
Mount  Mark,  you  know." 

"Carol  won't  fall  in  love  with  a  Mount  Mark  fel- 
low." 

"You  seem  very  positiv_e." 

"Yes,  I'm  positive." 

He  looked  thoughtful  for  a  while.  "Well,  Pru- 
dence always  told  me  to  watch  Carol,  so  I  could 
help  her  if  she  needed  it." 

"Girls  always  need  their  fathers,"  came  the  quick 
reply.  "But  Carol  does  not  need  you  particularly. 
There's  only  one  of  them  who  will  require  especial 
attention." 

"That's  what  Prudence  says." 

"Yes,  just  one — not  Carol." 

"Not  Carol!"  He  looked  at  her  in  astonishment. 
"Why,  Fairy  and  Lark  are — different.  They're  all 
right.  They  don't  need  attention." 

"No.    It's  the  other  one." 

"The  other  one!    That's  all." 

"There's  Connie." 


THE  END  OF  FAIRY  197 

"Connie?" 

"Yes." 

"Connie?" 

"Yes." 

"You  don't  mean  Connie." 

rA.unt  Grace  smiled. 

"Why,  Grace,  you're — you're  off.  Excuse  me 
for  saying  it,  but — you're  crazy.  Connie — why, 
Connie  has  never  been  any  trouble  in  her  life.  Con- 
nie!" 

"You've  never  had  any  friction  with  Connie, 
she's  always  been  right  so  far.  One  of  these  days 
she's  pretty  likely  to  be  wrong,  and  Connie  doesn't 
yield  very  easily." 

"But  Connie's  so  sober  and  straight,  and — " 

"That's  the  kind." 

"She's  so  conscientious." 

"Yes,  conscientious." 

"She's — look  Here,  Grace,  there's  nothing  the 
matter  with  Connie." 

"Of  course  not,  William.  That  isn't  what  I  mean. 
But  you  ought  to  be  getting  very,  very  close  to 
Connie  right  now,  for  one  of  these  days  she's  going 
*o  need  a  lot  of  that  extra  companionship  Prudence 


198  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

told  you  about.  Connie  wants  to  know  every- 
thing. She  wants  to  see  everything.  None  of  the 
other  girls  ever  yearned  for  city  life.  Connie  does. 
She  says  when  she  is  through  school  she's  going  to 
the  city." 

"What  city?" 

"Any  city." 

"What  for?" 

"For  experience." 

Mr.  Starr  looked  about  him  helplessly.  "There's 
experience  right  here,"  he  protested  feebly.  "Lots 
of  it.  Entirely  too  much  of  it." 

"Well,  that's  Connie.  She  wants  to  know,  to  see, 
to  feel.  She  wants  to  live.  Get  close  to  her,  get 
chummy.  She  may  not  need  it,  and  then  again  she 
may.  She's  very  young  yet." 

"All  right,  I  will.  It  is  well  I  have  some 
one  to  steer  me  along  the  proper  road."  He 
looked  regretfully  out  of  the  window.  "I  ought  to 
be  able  to  see  these  things  for  myself,  but  the  girls 
seem  perfectly  all  right  to  me.  They  always  have. 
I  suppose  it's  because  they're  mine." 

Aunt  Grace  looked  at  him  affectionately.  "It's 
because  they're  the  finest  girls  on  earth,"  she  de- 


THE  END  OF  FAIRY  199 

dared.  "That's  why.  But  we  want  to  be  ready  to 
help  them  if  they  need  it,  just  because  they  are  so 
fine.  They  will  every  one  be  splendid,  if  we  give 
them  the  right  kind  of  a  chance." 

He  sat  silent  a  moment.  "I've  always  wanted 
one  of  them  to  marry  a  preacher,"  he  said,  laughing 
apologetically.  "It  is  very  narrow-minded,  of 
Bourse,  but  a  man  does  make  a  hobby  of  his  own 
profession.  I  always  hoped  Prudence  would.  I 
thought  she  was  born  for  it.  Then  I  looked  to 
Fairy,  and  she  turned  me  down.  I  guess  I'll  have 
to  give  up  the  notion  now." 

She  looked  at  him  queerly.    "Maybe  not." 

"Connie  might,  I  suppose." 

"Connie,"  she  contradicted  promptly,  "will  prob- 
ably marry  a  genius,  or  a  rascal,  or  a  millionaire.'* 

He  looked  dazed  at  that. 

She  leaned  forward  a  little.     "Carol  might." 

"Carol—" 

"She  might."  She  watched  him  narrowly,  a  smile 
in  her  eyes. 

"Carol's  too  worldly." 

"You  don't  believe  that." 

"No,  not  really.     Carol — she — why,  you  know; 


200  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

when  I  think  of  it,  Carol  wouldn't  be  half  bad  for  a 
minister's  wife.  She  has  a  sense  of  humor,  that 
is  very  important.  She's  generous,  she's  patient, 
she's  unselfish,  a  good  mixer, — some  of  the  ladies 
might  think  her  complexion  wasn't  real,  but — 
Grace,  Carol  wouldn't  be  half  bad!" 

"Oh,  William,"  she  sighed,  "can't  you  remember 
that  you  are  a  Methodist  minister,  and  a  grand- 
father, and — grow  up  a  little  ?" 

After  that  Mr.  Starr  returned  to  normal  again, 
only  many  times  he  and  Connie  had  little  outings 
together,  and  talked  a  great  deal.  And  Aunt  Grace, 
seeing  it,  smiled  with  satisfaction.  But  the  twins 
and  Fairy  settled  it  in  their  own  minds  by  saying, 
"Father  was  just  a  little  jealous  of  all  the  beaux. 
He  was  looking  for  a  pal,  and  he's  found  Connie." 

But  in  spite  of  his  new  devotion  to  Connie,  Mr. 
Starr  also  spent  a  great  deal  of  time  with  Fairy. 
"We  must  get  fast  chums,  Fairy,"  he  often  said  to 
her.  "This  is  our  last  chance.  We  have  to  get 
cemented  for  a  lifetime,  you  know." 

And  Fairy,  when  he  said  so,  caught  his  hand  and 
laughed  a  little  tremulously. 

Indeed,  he  was  right  when  he  said  it  was  his  last 


THE  END  OF  FAIRY  201 

chance  with  Fairy  in  the  parsonage.  Two  weeks 
before  her  commencement  she  had  slipped  into  the 
library  and  closed  the  door  cautiously  behind  her. 

"Father,"  she  said,  "would  you  be  very  sorry  if  I 
(didn't  teach  school  after  all?" 

"Not  a  bit,"  came  the  ready  answer. 

"I  mean  if  I — you  see,  father,  since  you  sent  me 
to  college  I  feel  as  if  I  ought  to  work  and — help 
put." 

"That's  nonsense,"  he  said,  drawing  the  tall  girl 
down  to  his  knees.  "I  can  take  care  of  my  own 
'family,  thanks.  !Are  you  trying  to  run  me  out  of 
my  job?  If  you  want  to  work,  all  right,  do  it,  but 
'for  yourself,  and  not  for  us.  Or  if  you  want  to  do 
anything  else,"  he  did  not  meet  her  eyes,  "if  you 
want  to  stay  at  home  a  year  or  so  before  you  get 
married,  it  would  please  us  better  than  anything  else. 
And  when  you  want  to  marry  Gene,  we're  expecting 
it,  you  know." 

"Yes,  I  know,"  she  fingered  the  lapel  of  his  £oat 
uneasily.  "Do  you  care  how  Soon  I  get  married?" 

"Are  you  still  sure  it  is  Gene?" 

"Yes,  I'm  sure." 

"Then  I  think  you  should  choose  your  own  time. 


I  am  in  no  hurry.  But  any  time, — it's  for  you,  and 
Gene,  to  decide." 

"Then  you  haven't  set  your  heart  on  my  teach- 
ing?" 

"I  set  my  heart  on  giving  you  the  best  chance 
possible.  And  I  have  done  it.  For  the  rest,  it  de- 
pends on  you.  You  may  work,  or  you  may  stay  at 
home  a  while.  I  only  want  you  to  be  happy,  Fairy." 

"But  doesn't  it  seem  foolish  to  go  clear  through 
college,  and  spend  the  money,  and  then — marry 
without  using  the  education  ?" 

"I  do  not  think  so.  They've  been  fine  years,  and 
you  are  finer  because  of  them.  There's  just  as  much 
opportunity  to  use  your  fineness  in  a  home  of  your 
own  as  in  a  public  school.  Jhat's  the  way  I  look 
at  it." 

"You  don't  think  I'm  too  young?" 

"You're  pretty  young,"  he  said  slowly.  "I  can 
hardly  say,  Fairy.  You've  always  been  capable  and 
self-possessed.  When  you  and  Gene  get  so  crazy 
about  each  other  you  can't  bear  to  be  apart  any 
longer,  it's  all  right  here." 

She  put  her  arm  around  his  neck  and  rubbed  Hef 
fingers  over  his  cheek  lovingly. 


[THE  END  OF  FAIRY  203 

"You  understand,  don't  you,  father,  that  I'm 
just  going  to  be  plain  married  when  the  time 
conies?  Not  a  wedding  like  Prudence's.  Gene, 
and  the  girls,  and  Prue  and  Jerry,  and  you,  father, 
that  is  all." 

"Yes,  all  right.    It's  your  day,  you  know." 

"And  we  won't  talk  much  about  it  beforehand. 
.We  all  know  how;  we  feel  about  things.  It  would 
be  silly  for  me  to  try  to  tell  you  what  a  grand 
sweet  father  you've  been  to  us.  I  can't  tell  you, — • 
if  I  tried  I'd  only  cry.  You  know  what  I  think." 

His  face  was  against  hers,  and  his  eyes  were 
away  from  her,  so  Fairy  did  not  see  the  moisture 
in  his  eyes  when  he  said  in  a  low  voice : 

"Yes,  I  know  Fairy.  And  I  don't  need  to  say 
what  fine  girls  you  are,  and  how  proud  I  am  of  you. 
You  know  it  already.  But  sometimes,"  he  added 
slowly,  "I  wonder  that  I  haven't  been  a  bigger  man, 
and  haven't  done  finer  work,  with  a  houseful  of  girls 
like  mine." 

Her  arm  pressed  more  closely  about  his  neck. 
"Father,"  she  whispered,  "don't  say  that.  LWe 
think  you  are  wonderfully  splendid,  just  as  you 
are.  It  isn't  what  you've  said,  not  what  you've 


204  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

t 
done  for  us,  it's  just  because  you  have  always  made 

us  so  sure  of  you.  We  never  had  to  wonder  about 
father,  or  ask  ourselves — we  were  sure.  We've 
always  had  you."  She  leaned  over  and  kissed  him 
again.  "There  never  was  such  a  father,  they  all 
say  so,  Prudence  and  Connie,  and  the  twins,  too! 
There  couldn't  be  another  like  you!  Now  we 
understand  each  other,  don't  we?" 

"I  guess  so.  Anyhow,  I  understand  that  there'll 
only  be  three  daughters  in  the  parsonage  pretty 
soon.  All  right,  Fairy.  I  know  you  will  be  happy." 
He  paused  a  moment.  "So  will  I." 

But  the  months  passed,  and  Fairy  seemed  content 
to  stay  quietly  at  home,  embroidering  as  Prudence 
had  done,  laughing  at  the  twins  as  they  tripped 
gaily,  riotously  through  college.  And  then  in  the 
early  spring,  she  sent  an  urgent  note  to  Prudence. 

"You  must  come  home  for  a  few  days,  Prue,  you 
and  Jerry.  It's  just  because  I  want  you  and  I  need 
you,  and  I  know  you  won't  go  back  on  me.  I  want 
you  to  get  here  on  the  early  afternoon  train  Tues- 
day, and  stay  till  the  last  of  the  week.  Just 
wire  that  you  are  coming — the  three  of  you.  I  know; 
you'll  be  here,  since  it  is  I  who  ask  it." 


THE  END  OF  FAIRY  205 

It  followed  naturally  that  Prudence's  answer 
was  satisfactory.  "Of  course  we'll  come." 

Fairy's  plans  were  very  simple.  "We'll  have  a 
nice  family  dinner  Tuesday  evening, — we'll  get 
Mrs.  Green  to  come  and  cook  and  have  her  niece 
to  serve  it, — that'll  leave  us  free  to  visit  every  min- 
ute. I'll  plan  the  dinner.  Jhen  we'll  all  be  to- 
gether, nice  and  quiet,  just  our  own  little  bunch. 
Don't  have  dates,  twins, — of  course  Gene  will  be 
here,  but  he's  part  of  the  family,  and  we  don't  want 
outsiders  this  time.  His  parents  will  be  in  town, 
and  I've  asked  them  to  come  up.  I  want  a  real 
family  reunion  just  for  once,  and  it's  my  party, 
'for  I  started  it.  So  you  must  let  me  have  it  my 
own  way." 

Fairy  was  generally  willing  to  leave  the  initia- 
tive to  the  eager  twins,  but  when  she  made  a  plan 
it  was  generally  worth  adopting,  and  the  other 
members  of  the  family  agreed  to  her  arrangements 
without  demur. 

After  the  first  confusion  of  welcoming  Prudence 
home,  and  making  fun  of  "daddy  Jerry,"  and  test- 
ing the  weight  and  length  of  little  Fairy,  they  all 
settled  down  to  a  parsonage  home-gathering.  Just 


«o6  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

a  few  minutes  before  the  dinner  hour,  Fairy  took 
her  father's  hand. 

"Come  into  the  lime-light,"  she  said  softly,  "I 
want  you."  He  passed  little  Fairy  over  to  the  out- 
stretched arms  of  the  nearest  auntie,  and  allowed 
himself  to  be  led  into  the  center  of  the  room. 

"Gene,"  said  Fairy,  and  he  came  to  her  quickly, 
holding  out  a  slender  roll  of  paper.  "It's  our  li- 
cense," said  Fairy.  "We  think  we'd  like  t6  be  mar- 
ried now,  father,  if  you  will." 

He  looked  at  her  questioningly,  but  understand* 
ingly.  The  girls  clustered  about  them  with  eager 
outcries,  half  protest,  half  encouragement. 

"It's  my  day,  you  know,"  cried  Fairy,  "and  this 
is  my  way." 

She  held  out  her  hand,  and  Gene  took  it  yery  ten- 
derly in  his.  Mr.  Starr  looked  at  them  gravely 
for  a  moment,  and  then  in  the  gentle  voice  that 
the  parsonage  girls  insisted  was  his  most  valuable 
ministerial  asset,  he  gave  his  second  girl  in  mar- 
riage. 

It  surely  was  Fairy's  way,  plain  and  sweet,  with- 
out formality.  And  the  dinner  that  followed  was 
just  a  happy  family  dinner.  Fairy's  face  was  so 


. 


THE  END  OF  FAIRY  207 

glowing  witH  content,  and  Gene's  attitude  was  so 
tender,  and  so  ludicrously  proud,  that  the  twins  at 
last  were  convinced  that  this  was  right,  and  all  was 
well. 

But  that  evening,  when  Gene's  parents  had  gone 
away,  and  after  Fairy  and  Gene  themselves  had 
taken  the  carriage  to  the  station  for  their  little  va- 
cation together,  and  Jerry  and  Prudence  were  put- 
ting little  Fairy  to  bed,  the  three  girls  left  in  the 
home  sat  drearily  in  their  bedroom  and  talked  it 
over. 

"We're  thinning  out,"  said  Connie.  "Who  next?" 

"We'll  stick  around  as  long  as  we  like,  Miss 
Connie,  you  needn't  try  to  shuffle  us  off,"  said 
Lark  indignantly. 

"Prudence,  and  Fairy, — it  was  pretty  cute  of 
Fairy,  wasn't  it?" 

"Let's  go  to  bed,"  said  Carol,  rising.  "I  sup- 
pose we'll  feel  better  in  the  morning.  rA  good  sleep 
is  almost  as  filling  as  a  big  meal  after  a  blow  like 
this.  Well,  that's  the  end  of  Fairy.  We  have  to 
make  the  best  of  us.  Come  on,  Larkie.  LYou've 
still  got  us  to  boss  you,  Con,  so  you  needn't  feel  too 
forlorn.  My,  but  the  house  is  still !  In  some  ways 


208  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

I  think  this  family  is  positively  sickening.  Good 
night,  Connie.  And,  after  this,  when  you  want 
to  eat  candy  in  bed,  please  use  your  own.  I  got 
Chocolate  all  over  my  foot  last  night.  Good  night, 
Connie.  Well,  it's  the  end  of  Fairy.  The  family  is 
going  to  pieces,  sure  enough." 


CHAPTER  XII 

SOWING   SEEDS 

44T  T  AYE  you  seen  Mrs.  Harbert  lately,  Carol?" 

JLJ.  "Yes,  she's  better,  father.  I  was  there 
a  few  minutes  yesterday." 

"Yesterday?  [You  were  there  Juesday?  jyeren't 
you?" 

Carol  looked  uncomfortable.  ".Why,  yes,  I  was, 
just  for  a  second." 

"She  tells  me  you've  been  running  in  nearly 
every  day  since  she  took  sick." 

Carol  bent  sharply  inquiring  eyes  upon  her 
father.  "What  else  did  she  tell  you?" 

"She  said  you  were  an  angel." 

"Y-yes, — she  seems  somehow  to  think  I  do  it  for 
kindness." 

"And  don't  you?" 

"Why,  no,  father,  of  course  I  don't.  It's  only 
two  blocks  out  of  my  way  and  it's  such  fun  to  pop 

209 


aioj  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

in  on  sick  folks  and  show  them  how  disgustingly 
strong  and  well  I  am." 

"Where  did  you  get  the  money  for  that  basket 
of  fruit?." 

"I  borrowed  it  from  Aunt  Grace."  Carol's  face 
was  crimson  with  mortification.  "But  it'll  be  a 
sweet  time  before  Mrs.  Harbert  gets  anything  else 
from  me.  She  promised  she  wouldn't  tell." 

"Did  any  of  the  others  know  about  the  fruit?'" 

"Why—  not  —  exactly." 

"But  she  thinks  it  was  from  the  whole  family. 
She  thanked  me  for  it." 

"I  —  I  made  her  think  that,"  Carol  explained.  "I 
want  her  to  think  we're  the  nicest  parsonage  bunch 
they've  ever  had  in  Mount  Mark.  Besides,  it 
really  was  from  the  family.  Aunt  Grace  loaned 
me  the  money  and  I'll  have  to  borrow  it  from  you 
to  pay  her.  [And  Lark  did  my  dusting  so  I  could 
go  on  the  errand,  though  she  did  not  know  what  it 
was.  And  I  —  er  —  accidentally  took  one  of  Con- 
nie's ribbons  to  tie  it  with.  Isn't  that  a  family 


"Mr.  Scott  tells  me  you  are  the  prime  mover  in 
the  Junior  League  now,"  he  continued. 


SOWING  SEEDS  ten 

"Well,  goodness  knows  our  Junior  League  needs 
a  mover  of  some  sort." 

"And  Mrs.  Davies  says  you  are  a  whole  Mercy 
and  Help  Department  all  by  yourself." 

"What  I  can't  understand,"  said  Carol  mourn- 
fully, "is  why  folks  don't  keep  their  mouths  shut. 
I  know  that  sounds  very  inelegant,  but  it  expresses 
my  idea  perfectly.  Can't  I  have  a  good  time  in  my 
own  way  without  the  whole  church  pedaling  me 
from  door  to  door?" 

The  twinkle  in  her  father's  eyes  deepened. 
"What  do  you  call  it,  Carol,  'sowing  seeds  of  kind- 
ness'?" 

"I  should  say  not,"  came  the  emphatic  retort.  "I 
£all  it  sowing  seeds  of  fun.  It's  a  circus  to  gb 
around  and  gloat  over  'folks  when  they  are  sick  or 
sorry,  or — " 

"But  they  tell  me  you  'don't  gloat.  Mrs.  Marling 
says  you  cried  with  Jeanie  half  a  day  when  her  dog 
died." 

"Oh,  that's  my  way  of  gloating,"  said  Carol, 
nothing  daunted,  but  plainly  glad  to  get  away  with- 
out further  interrogation. 

It  was  a  strange  thing  that  of  all  the  parsonage 


212  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

girls,  Carol,  light-hearted,  whimsical,  mischievous 
Carol,  was  the  one  most  dear  to  the  hearts  of  her 
father's  people.  Not  the  gentle  Prudence,  nor 
charming  Fairy,  not  clever  Lark  nor  conscientious 
Connie,  could  rival  the  "naughty  twin"  in  Mount 
Mark's  affections.  And  in  spite  of  her  odd  curt 
speeches,  and  her  openly-vaunted  vanity,  Mount 
Mark  insisted  she  was  "good."  Certainly  she  was 
willing!  "Get  Carol  Starr, — she'll  do  it,"  was  the 
commonest  phrase  in  Mount  Mark's  vocabulary. 
Whatever  was  wanted,  whatever  the  sacrifice  in- 
volved, Carol  stood  ready  to  fill  the  bill.  Not  for 
kindness, — oh,  dear  no, — Carol  stanchly  disclaimed 
any  such  niceness  as  that.  She  did  it  for  fun,  pure 
and  simple.  She  said  she  liked  to  show  off.  She 
insisted  that  she  liked  to  feel  that  she  was  the  pivot 
on  which  little  old  Mount  Mark  turned.  But  this 
was  only  when  she  was  found  out.  As  far  as  she 
could  she  kept  her  little  "seeds  of  fun"  carefully 
up  her  sleeve,  and  it  was  only  when  the  indis- 
creet adoration  of  her  friends  brought  the  budding 
plants  to  light,  that  she  laughingly  declared  "it  was 
a  circus  to  go  and  gloat  over  folks." 


SOWING  SEEDS  213 

Once  in  the  early  dusk  of  a  summer  evening,  she 
discovered  old  Ben  Peters,  half  intoxicated,  slum- 
bering noisily  on  a  pile  of  sacks  in  a  corner  of  the 
parsonage  barn.  Carol  was  sorry,  but  not  at  all 
frightened.  The  poor,  kindly,  weak,  old  man  was  as 
familiar  to  her  as  any  figure  in  Mount  Mark.  He 
was  always  in  a  more  or  less  helpless  state  of  in- 
toxication, but  also  he  was  always  harmless,  kind- 
hearted  and  generous.  She  prodded  him  vigorously 
with  the  handle  of  the  pitch-fork  until  he  was 
aroused  to  consciousness,  and  then  guided  him  into 
the  woodshed  with  the  buggy  whip.  When  he  was 
seated  on  a  chunk  of  wood  she  faced  him  sternly. 

"Well,  you  are  a  dandy,"  she  said.  "Going  into 
a  parsonage  barn,  of  all  places  in  the  world,  to 
sleep  off  an  odor  like  yours!  Why  didn't  you  go 
down  to  Fred  Greer's  harness  shop,  that's  where 
you  got  it.  We're  such  an  awfully  temperance 
town,  you  know !  But  the  parsonage !  Why,  if  the 
trustees  had  happened  into  the  barn  and  caught  a 
whiff  of  that  smell,  father'd  have  lost  his  job.  Now 
you  just  take  warning  from  me,  and  keep  away 
|rpm  this  parsonage  until  you  can  develop  a  good 


214  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO. 

Methodist  odor.  Oh,  don't  cry  about  it !  Your  very 
tears  smell  rummy.  Just  you  hang  on  to  that  chunk 
p'f  wood,  and  I'll  bring  you  some  coffee." 

Like  a  thief  in  the  night  she  sneaked  into  the 
house,  and  presently  returned  with  a  huge  tin  of 
coffee,  steaming  hot.  He  drank  it  eagerly,  but  kept 
a  wary  eye  on  the  haughty  twin,  who  stood  above 
him  with  the  whip  in  her  hand. 

"That's  better.  Now,  sit  down  and  listen  to  me. 
Jf  you  would  come  to  the  parsonage,  you  have  to 
take  your  medicine.  Silver  and  gold  have  we  none, 
but  such  as  we  have  we  give  to  you.  And  religion's 
all  we've  got  You're  here,  and  I'm  here.  We 
haven't  any  choir  or  any  Bible,  but  parsonage  folks 
have  to  be  adaptable.  Now  then,  Ben  Peters,  you've 
got  to  get  converted." 

The  poor  doddering  old  fellow,  sobered  by  this 
awful  announcement,  looked  helplessly  at  the  win- 
dow. It  was  too  small.  And  slender  active  Carol, 
with  the  buggy  whip,  stood  between  him  and  the 
idoor. 

"No,  you  can*t  escape.  [You're  clone  for  this 
time, — it's  the  straight  and  narrow  from  this  on. 
Now  listen, — it's  really  very  simple.  And  you  need 


SOWING  SEEDS  215 

it  pretty  badly,  Ben.  Of  course  you  don't  realize  it 
when  you're  drunk,  you  can't  see  how  terribly  dis- 
gusting you  are,  but  honestly,  Ben,  a  pig  is  a  ray  of 
sunshine  compared  to  a  drunk  man.  You're  a  blot 
on  the  landscape.  You're  a —  you're  a — "  She 
fished  vainly  for  words,  longing  for  Lark's  literary 
flow  of  language. 

"I'm  not  drunk,"  he  stammered. 

"No,  you're  not,  thanks  to  the  buggy  whip  and 
that  strong  coffee,  but  you're  no  beauty  even  yet. 
Well  now,  to  come  down  to  religion  again.  You 
can't  stop  drinking — " 

"I  could,"  he  blustered  feebly,  "I  could  if  I 
wanted  to." 

"Oh,  no,  you  couldn't.  You  haven't  backbone 
enough.  You  couldn't  stop  to  save  your  life.  But," 
Carol's  voice  lowered  a  little,  and  she  grew  shy, 
but  very  earnest,  "but  God  can  stop  you,  because 
He  has  enough  backbone  for  a  hundred  thousand — 
er,  jellyfishes.  And — you  see,  it's  like  this.  God 
made  the  world,  and  put  the  people  in  it.  Now 
listen  carefully,  Ben,  and  I'll  make  it  just  as  simple 
as  possible  so  it  can  sink  through  the  smell  and  get 
at  you.  God  made  the  world,  and  put  the  people  in  it. 


216  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SQ 

And  the  people  sinned,  worshiped  idols  and  went 
back  on  God,  and — did  a  lot  of  other  mean  things. 
So  God  was  in  honor  bound  to  punish  them,  for 
that's  the  law,  and  God's  the  judge  that  can't  be 
bought.  He  had  to  inflict  punishment.  But  God  and 
Jesus  talked  it  over,  and  they  felt  awfully  bad  about 
it,  for  they  kind  of  liked  the  people  anyhow."  She 
stared  at  the  disreputable  figure  slouching  on  the 
chunk  of  wood.  "It's  very  hard  to  understand, 
yery.  I  should  think  they  would  despise  us, — some 
of  us,"  she  added  significantly.  "I'm  sure  I  should. 
But  anyhow  they  didn't.  Are  you  getting  me  ?" 

The  bleary  eyes  were  really  fastened  intently  on 
the  girl's  bright  face,  and  he  hung  upon  her  words. 

"Well,  they  decided  that  Jesus  should  come  down 
here  and  live,  and  be  perfectly  good,  so  He  would 
not  deserve  any  punishment,  and  then  God  would 
allow  Him  to  receive  the  punishment  anyhow,  and 
the  rest  of  us  could  go  free.  That  would  cover  the 
law.  See?  Punishing  Him  when  He  deserved  no 
punishment.  Then  they  could  forgive  us  heathens 
that  didn't  deserve  it.  Dp  you  get  that?"  She 
looked  at  him  anxiously.  "It  all  hinges  on  that, 
you  know.  I'm  not  a  preacher  myself,  but  that's 


SOWING  SEEDS  217 

the  idea.  So  Jesus  was  crucified,  and  then  God  said, 
'There  He  is !  Look  on  Him,  believe  in  Him,  wor- 
ship Him,  and  in  His  name  you  stand  O.  K.'  See? 
That  means,  if  we  give  Him  the  chance,  God'll  let 
Jesus  take  our  share  of  the  punishment.  So  we've 
just  got  to  let  go,  and  say,  'All  right,  here  I  am.  I 
believe  it,  I  give  up,  I  know  I  don't  amount  to  a 
hill  of  beans — and  you  can  say  it  very  honestly — but 
if  you  want  me,  and  will  call  it  square,  God  knows 
I'm  willing.'  And  there  you  are." 

"Won't  I  drink  any  more?" 

"No,  not  if  you  let  go  hard  enough.  I  mean," 
she  caught  herself  up  quickly,  "I  mean  if  you  let 
clear  go  and  turn  the  job  over  to  God.  But  you're 
not  to  think  you  can  keep  decent  by  yourself,  for 
you  can't — it's  not  born  in  you,  and  something  else 
is — just  let  go,  and  stay  let  go.  After  that,  it's  God's 
job,  and  unless  you  stick  in  and  try  to  manage  your- 
self, He'll  see  you  through." 

"All  right,  I'll  do  it." 

Carol  gasped.  She  opened  her  lips  a  few  times, 
and  swallowed  hard.  She  didn't  know  what  to  do 
next.  Wildly  she  racked  her  brain  for  the  next 
step  in  this  vital  performance. 


218  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

"I — think  we  ought  to  pray,"  she  said  feebly. 

"All  right,  we'll  pray."  He  rolled  curiously  off 
the  stick  of  wood,  and  fell,  as  if  by  instinct,  into  the 
attitude  of  prayer. 

Carol  gazed  about  her  helplessly.  But  true  to  her 
training,  she  knelt  beside  him.  Then  came  silence. 

"I — well,  I'll  pray,"  she  said  with  grim  deter- 
mination. "Dear  Father  in  Heaven,"  she  began 
weakly,  and  then  she  forgot  her  timidity  and  her 
fear,  and  realized  only  that  this  was  a  crisis  in  the 
life  of  the  drunken  man. 

.  "Oh,  God,  he'll  do  it.  He'll  let  go,  and  turn  it 
over  to  you.  He  isn't  worth  anything,  God,  none 
of  us  are,  but  You  can  handle  him,  for  You've  had 
worse  jobs  than  this,  though  it  doesn't  seem  possible. 
You'll  help  him,  God,  and  love  him,  and  show  him 
how,  for  he  hasn't  the  faintest  idea  what  to  do  next, 
and  neither  have  I.  But  You  brought  him  into  our 
barn  to-night,  and  You'll  see  him  through.  Oh,  God, 
for  Jesus'  sake,  help  Ben  Peters.  Amen. 

"Now,  what  shall  I  do?"  she  wondered. 

"What's  your  father  for?"  She  looked  quickly 
at  Ben  Peters.  He  had  not  spoken,  but  something 
certainly  had  asked,  "What's  your  father  for?" 


SOWING  SEEDS  219 

"You  stay  here,  Ben,  and  pray  for  yourself, 
and  I'll  send  father  out.  I'm  not  just  sure  what  to 
say  next,  and  father'll  finish  you  up.  You  pray  for 
all  you're  worth." 

She  was  gone  in  a  flash,  through  the  kitchen, 
through  the  hall,  up  the  stairs  two  at  a  time,  and  her 
arm  thrown  closely  about  her  father's  shoulder. 

"Oh,  father,  I  got  stuck,"  she  wailed.  "I'm  so 
ashamed  of  myself.  But  you  can  finish  him  off,  can't 
you?  I  honestly  believe  he's  started." 

He  took  her  firmly  by  the  arms  and  squared  her 
around  on  his  lap.  "One,  two,  three,  ready,  go. 
Now,  what?" 

"Ben  Peters.  He  was  drunk  in  the  barn  and  I 
took  him  into  the  wood-shed  and  gave  him  some 
hot  coffee, — and  some  religion,  but  not  enough  to 
hurt  him.  I  told  him  he  had  to  get  converted,  and 
he  said  he  would.  So  I  told  him  about  it,  but  you'd 
better  tell  him  again,  for  I'm  afraid  I  made  quite  a 
mess  of  it.  And  then  we  prayed,  and  I  was  stuck 
for  fair,  father,  for  I  couldn't  think  what  to  do 
next.  But  I  do  believe  it  was  God  who  said, 
'What's  your  father  for?'  And  so  I  left  him  pray- 
ing for  himself,  and — you'd  better  hurry,  or  he  may 


220  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

get  cold  feet  and  run  away.  Be  easy  with  him, 
father,  but  don't  let  him  off.  This  is  the  first 
chance  we've  ever  had  at  Ben  Peters,  and  God'll 
never  forgive  us  if  we  let  him  slip  through  our 
fingers.'* « 

Carol  was  dumped  off  on  to  the  floor  and  her 
father  was  half-way  down  the  stairs  before  she 
caught  her  breath.  Then  she  smiled.  Then  she 
blushed. 

"That  was  one  bad  job,"  she  said  to  herself 
sadly.  "I'm  a  disgrace  to  the  Methodist  church. 
^Thank  goodness  the  trustees'll  never  hear  of  it.  I'll 
bribe  Ben  Peters  to  eternal  silence  if  I  have  to  do  it 
with  kisses."  Then  her  face  grew  very  soft.  "Poor 
old  man  I  Oh,  the  poor  old  man !"  A  quick  rush  of 
tears  blinded  her  eyes,  and  her  throat  throbbed.  "Oh, 
why  do  they, — what  makes  men  like  that?  Can't 
they  see,  can't  they  know,  how  awful  they  are, 
how — "  She  shuddered.  "I  can't  see  for  the  life 
of  me  what  makes  God  treat  us  decently  at  all." 
Her  face  brightened  again.  "I  was  a  bad  job, 
all  right,  but  I  feel  kind  of  pleased  about  it.  I  hope 
father  won't  mention  it  to  the  girls." 

And  Ben  Peters  truly  had  a  start,  incredible  as 


SOWING  SEEDS 


it  seemed.  Yes,  as  Carol  had  warned  him,  he  for- 
got sometimes  and  tried  to  steer  for  himself,  and 
always  crashed  into  the  rocks.  Then  Carol,  with 
angry  eyes  and  scornful  voice,  berated  him  for  try- 
ing to  get  hold  of  God's  job,  and  cautioned  him 
anew  about  "sticking  in  when  it  was  not  his  affair 
any  more."  It  took  time,  a  long  time,  and  hard 
work,  and  many,  many  prayers  went  up  from  Car- 
ol's bedside,  and  from  the  library  at  the  head  of  the 
stairs,  but  there  came  a  time  when  Ben  Peters  let 
go  for  good  and  all,  and  turned  to  Carol,  standing 
beside  the  bed  with  sorry  frightened  eyes,  and  said 
quietly  : 

"It's  all  right,  Carol.  I've  let  go.  .You're  a 
mighty  nice  little  girl.  I've  let  go  for  good  this 
time.  I'm  just  slipping  along  where  He  sends  me,  — 
it's  all  right,"  he  finished  drowsily.  And  fell 
asleep. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE  CONNIE  PROBLEM 

MR.  STARR  was  getting  ready  to  go  to  con- 
ference, and  the  girls  hovered  about  him  with 
anxious  eyes.  This  was  their  fifth  conference  since 
coming  to  Mount  Mark, — the  time  limit  for  Metho- 
dist ministers  was  five  years.  The  Starrs,  therefore, 
would  be  transferred,  and  where  ?  Small  wonder  that 
the  girls  followed  him  around  the  house  and  spoke 
in  soft  voices  and  looked  with  tender  eyes  at  the 
old  parsonage  and  the  wide  lawn.  They  would  be 
leaving  it  next  week.  Already  the  curtains  were 
down,  and  laundered,  and  packed.  The  trunks 
were  filled,  the  books  were  boxed.  Yes,  they  were 
leaving,  but  whither  were  they  bound  ? 

"Get  your  ecclesiastical  dander  up,  father,"  Carol 
urged,  "don't  let  them  give  us  a  church  fight,  or  a 
twenty-thousand-dollar  debt  on  a  thousand-dollar 
congregation." 

222 


THE  CONNIE  PROBLEM  223 

"We  don't  care  for  a  big  salary  or  a  stylish  con- 
gregation," Lark  added,  "but  we  don't  want  to  go 
back  to  washpans  and  kerosene  lamps  again." 

"If  you  have  to  choose  between  a  6ath  tub,  with 
a  church  quarrel,  and  a  wash  basin  with  peace  and 
harmony,  we'll  take  the  tub  and  settle  the  scrap!" 

The  conference  was  held  in  Fairfield,  and  he  in- 
formed the  girls  casually  that  he  would  be  home  on 
the  first  train  after  the  assignments  were  made.  He 
said  it  casually,  for  he  did  not  wish  them  to  know 
how  perturbed  he  was  over  the  coming  change.  Dur- 
ing the  conference  he  tried  in  many  and  devious 
ways  to  learn  the  will  of  the  authorities  regarding 
his  future,  but  he  found  no  clue.  And  at  home  the 
girls  were  discussing  the  matter  very  little,  but 
thinking  of  nothing  else.  They  were  determined  to 
be  pleased  about  it. 

"It  really  doesn't  make  any  difference,"  Lark 
said.  "We've  had  one  year  in  college,  we  can  get 
along  without  any  more.  Or  maybe  father  would 
let  us  borrow  the  money  and  stay  at  the  dorm.  And 
Connie's  so  far  along  now  that  she's  all  right.  Any 
good  high  school  will  do  for  her.  It  doesn't  make 
any  difference  at  all." 


224  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

"No,  we're  so  nearly  grown  up  that  one  place  will 
do  just  as  well  as  another,"  agreed  Carol  uncon- 
cernedly. 

"I'm  rather  anxious  to  move,  myself,"  said  Con- 
nie. "I'm  afraid  some  of  the  ladies  might  carry  out 
their  designs  on  father.  They've  had  five  years 
of  practise  now,  you  know." 

"Don't  be  silly,  Con.  Isn't  Aunt  Grace  here  on 
purpose  to  chaperon  him  and  keep  the  ladies  off? 
I'd  hate  to  go  to  New  London,  of  Mediapolis,  or — • 
but  after  all  it  doesn't  make  a  bit  of  difference." 

Just  the  same,  on  Wednesday  evening,  the  girls 
sat  silent,  with  intensely  flushed  faces  and  painfully 
shining  eyes,  watching  the  clock,  listening  for  the 
footstep.  They  had  deliberately  remained  away 
from  the  station.  They  thought  they  could  face  it 
better  within  the  friendly  walls  of  the  parsonage. 
It  was  all  settled  now,  father  knew  where  they  were 
going.  Oh,  why  hadn't  he  wired?  It  must  be  ter- 
ribly bad  then,  he  evidently  wanted  to  break  it  to 
them  gently. 

Maybe  it  was  a  circuit!  There  was  the  whistle 
now!  Only  a  few  minutes  now.  Suppose  his  sal- 
ary were  cut  down, — good-by  to  silk  stockings 


THE  CONNIE  PROBLEM  225 

and  kid  gloves, — cheap,  but  kid,  just  the  same !  Sup- 
pose the  parsonage  would  be  old-fashioned!  Sup- 
pose there  wasn't  any  parsonage  at  all,  and  they 
would  have  to  pay  rent!  Sup —  Then  the  door 
slammed. 

Carol  and  Lark  picked  up  their  darning,  and 
Connie  bent  earnestly  over  her  magazine.  Aunt 
Grace  covered  a  yawn  with  her  slender  fingers  and 
looked  out  of  the  window. 

"Hello!" 

"Why,  hello,  papa !    Back  already?" 

They  dropped  darning  and  magazine  and  flew  to 
welcome  him  home. 

"Come  and  sit  down!"  "My,  it  seemed  a  long 
time !"  "We  had  lots  of  fun,  father."  "Was  it  a  nice 
conference?"  "Mr.  James  sent  us  two  bushels  of  po- 
tatoes !"  "We're  going  to  have  chicken  to-morrow — • 
the  Ladies'  Aiders  sent  it  with  their  farewell  love." 
"Wasn't  it  a  dandy  day  ?" 

"Well,  it's  all  settled." 

"Yes,  we  supposed  it  would  be.  Was  the  con- 
ference good?  We  read  accounts  of  it  every  day, 
and  acted  stuck-up  when  it  said  nice  things  about 
you." 


226  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

"We  are  to—" 

"Ju-just  a  minute,  father,"  interrupted  Connie 
anxiously.  "We  don't  care  a  snap  where  it  is,  hon- 
estly we  don't.  We're  just  crazy  about  it,  wherever 
it  is.  We've  got  it  all  settled.  You  needn't  be 
afraid  to  tell  us." 

"Afraid  to  tell  us!"  mocked  the  twins  indig- 
nantly. "What  kind  of  slave-drivers  do  you  think 
we  are?" 

"Of  course  we  don't  care  where  we  go,"  ex- 
plained Lark.  "Haven't  we  been  a  parsonage  bunch 
long  enough  to  be  tickled  to  death  to  be  sent  any 
place?" 

"Father  knows  we're  all  right.  Go  on,  daddy, 
who's  to  be  our  next  flock  ?" 

"We  haven't  any,  we — " 

The  girls'  faces  paled.  "Haven't  any?  You 
mean — " 

"I  mean  we're  to  stay  in  Mount  Mark." 

"Stay  in—    What?" 

"Mount  Mark.    They—" 

"They  extended  the  limit,"  cried  Connie,  spring- 
ing up. 


THE  CONNIE  PROBLEM  227 

"No,"  he  denied,  laughing.  "They  made  me  a 
presiding  elder,  and  we're — " 

"A  presiding  elder!  Father!  Honestly? 
They—" 

"They  ought  to  have  made  you  a  bishop,"  cried 
Carol  loyally.  "I've  been  expecting  it  all  my  life. 
That's  where  the  next  jump'll  land  you.  Presiding 
elder!  Now  we  can  snub  the  Ladies'  Aid  if  we 
want  to." 

"Do  you  want  to?" 

"No,  of  course  not,  but  it's  lots  of  fun  to  know 
we  could  if  we  did  want  to." 

"I  pity  the  next  parsonage  bunch,"  said  Connie 
sympathetically. 

"Why?  There's  nothing  the  matter  with  our 
church!" 

"Oh,  no,  that  isn't  what  I  mean.  But  the  next 
minister's  family  can't  possibly  come  up  to  us,  and 
so—" 

The  others  broke  her  sentence  with  their  laugh- 
ter. 

"Talk  about  me  and  my  complexion !"  gasped 
'Carol,  wiping  her  eyes.  "I'm  nothing  to  Connie 


PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 


and  her  family  pride.  Where  will  we  live  now, 
father?" 

"We'll  rent  a  house  —  any  house  we  like  —  and  live 
like  white  folks." 

"Rent!  Mercy,  father,  doesn't  the  conference 
furnish  the  elders  with  houses?  We  can  never 
afford  to  pay  rent  !  Never  !" 

"Oh,  we  have  a  salary  of  twenty-five  hundred  a 
year  now,"  he  said,  with  apparent  complacence,  but 
careful  to  watch  closely  for  the  effect  of  this  state- 
ment. It  gratified  him,  too,  much  as  he  had  ex- 
pected. The  girls  stood  stock-still  and  gazed  at 
him,  and  then,  with  a  violent  struggle  for  self  -com- 
posure Carol  asked: 

"Did  you  get  any  of  it  in  advance?  I  need  some 
new  slippers." 

So  the  packing  was  finished,  a  suitable  house  was 
found  —  modern,  with  reasonable  rent—  on  Maple 
Avenue  where  the  oaks  were  most  magnificent,  and 
the  parsonage  family  became  just  ordinary  "folks," 
a  parsonage  household  no  longer. 

"You  must  be  very  patient  with  us  if  we  still  try; 
to  run  things,"  Carol  said  apologetically  to  the4 
president  of  the  Ladies'  Aid.  ".We've  been  a  par-* 


THE  CONNIE  PROBLEM  229 

sonage  bunch  all  our  lives,  you  know,  and  it's  got 
to  be  a  habit.  But  we'll  be  as  easy  on  you  as  we 
can.  We  know  what  it  would  mean  to  leave  two 
ministers'  families  down  on  you  at  once." 

Mr.  Starr's  new  position  necessitated  long  and 
frequent  absences  from  home,  and  that  was  a 
drawback  to  the  family  comradeship.  But 
the  girls'  pride  in  his  advancement  was  so  colossal, 
and  their  determination  to  live  up  to  the  dignity  of 
the  eldership  was  so  deep-seated,  that  affairs  ran  on 
quite  serenely  in  the  new  home. 

"Aren't  we  getting  sensible?"  Carol  frequently 
asked  her  sisters,  and  they  agreed  enthusiastically 
that  they  certainly  were. 

"I  don't  think  we  ever  were  so  bad  as  we  thought 
we  were,"  Lark  said.  "Even  Prudence  says  now 
that  we  were  always  pretty  good.  Prudence  ought 
to  think  so.  She  got  most  of  our  spending  money 
for  a  good  many  years,  didn't  she?" 

"Prudence  didn't  get  it.  She  gave  it  to  the 
heathen." 

"Well,  she  got  credit  for  it  on  the  Lord's  ac- 
counts, I  suppose.  But  she  deserved  it.  It  was 
no  joke  collecting  allowances  from  us." 


230  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

One  day  this  beautiful  serenity  was  broken  in 
upon  in  a  most  unpleasant  way.  Carol  looked  up 
from  De  Senectute  and  flung  out  her  arms  in  an 
all-relieving  yawn.  Then  she  looked  at  her  aunt, 
asleep  on  the  couch.  She  looked  at  Lark,  who  was 
aimlessly  drawing  feathers  on  the  skeletons  of  birds 
in  her  biology  text.  She  looked  at  Connie,  sitting 
upright  in  her  chair,  a  small  book  close  to  her  face, 
alert,  absorbed,  oblivious  to  the  world.  Connie  was 
wide  awake,  and  Carol  resented  it. 

"What  are  you  reading,  Con?"  she  asked  re- 
proachfully. 

Connie  looked  up,  startled,  and  colored  a  little. 
"Oh, — poetry,"  she  stammered. 

Carol  was  surprised.  "Poetry,"  she  echoed. 
"Poetry?  What  kind  of  poetry?  There  are  many 
poetries  in  this  world  of  ours.  'Life  is  real,  life 
is  earnest.'  'There  was  a  young  lady  from  Bangor/ 
'A  man  and  a  maiden  decided  to  wed.'  'Sunset  and 
evening  star,' — oh,  there  are  lots  of  poetries.  What's 
yours?"  Her  senseless  dissertation  had  put  her  in 
good  humor  again. 

Connie  answered  evasively.     "It  is  by  an  old 


THE  CONNIE  PROBLEM  231 

Oriental  writer.  I  don't  suppose  you've  ever  read  it. 
Khayyam  is  his  name." 

"Some  name,"  said  Carol  suspiciously.  "What's 
the  poem  ?"  Her  eyes  had  narrowed  and  darkened. 
By  this  time  Carol  had  firmly  convinced  herself  that 
she  was  bringing  Connie  up, — a  belief  which  afford- 
ed lively  amusement  to  self-conducting  Connie. 

"Why,  it's  The  Rubaiyat.      It's—" 

"The  Rubaiyat!"  Carol  frowned.  Lark  looked 
up  from  the  skeletons  with  sudden  interest.  "The 
Rubaiyat?  By  Khayyam?  Isn't  that  the  old  fellow 
who  didn't  believe  in  God,  and  Heaven,  and  such 
things — you  know  what  I  mean, — the  man  who 
didn't  believe  anything,  and  wrote  about  it?  Let 
me  see  it.  I've  never  read  it  myself,  but  I've  heard 
about  it."  Carol  turned  the  pages  with  critical  dis- 
approving eyes.  "Hum,  yes,  I  know  about  this." 
She  faced  Connie  sternly.  "I  suppose  you  think, 
Connie,  that  since  we're  out  of  a  parsonage  we  can 
do  anything  we  like.  Haven't  we  any  standards? 
Haven't  we  any  ideals?  Are  we — are  we — well, 
anyhow,  what  business  has  a  minister's  daughter 
reading  trash  like  this?" 


232  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

"I  don't  believe  it,  you  know,"  Connie  said  cool- 
ly. "I'm  only  reading  it.  How  can  I  know  whether 
it's  trash  or  not,  unless  I  read  it  ?  I — " 

"Ministers'  daughters  are  supposed  to  keep  their 
fingers  clear  of  the  burning  ends  of  matches,"  said 
Carol  neatly.  "We  can't  handle  them  without  get- 
ting scorched,  or  blackened,  at  least.  We  have  to 
steer  clear  of  things  folks  aren't  sure  about.  Pru- 
dence says  so." 

"Prudence,"  said  Connie  gravely,  "is  a  dear 
sweet  thing,  but  she's  awfully  old-fashioned,  Carol; 
you  know  that." 

Carol  and  Lark  were  speechless.  They  would  as 
soon  have  dreamed  of  questioning  the  catechism  as 
Prudence's  perfection. 

"She's  narrow.  She's  a  darling,  of  course,  but 
she  isn't  up-to-date.  I  want  to  know  what  folks 
are  talking  about.  I  don't  believe  this  poem.  I'm 
a  Christian.  But  I  want  to  know  what  other  folks 
think  about  me  and  what  I  believe.  That's  all.  Pru- 
dence is  fine,  but  I  know  a  good  deal  more  about 
some  things  than  Prudence  will  know  when  she's 
a  thousand  years  old." 

The  twins  still  sat  silent. 


THE  CONNIE  PROBLEM  233 

"Of  course,  some  folks  wouldn't  approve  of  par- 
sonage girls  reading  things  like  this.  But  I  approve 
of  it.  I  want  to  know  why  I  disagree  with  this 
poetry,  and  I  can't  until  I  know  where  we  disagree. 
It's  beautiful,  Carol,  really.  It's  kind  of  sad.  It 
makes  me  want  to  cry.  It's — " 

"I've  a  big  notion  to  tell  papa  on  you,"  said 
Carol  soberly  and  sadly. 

Connie  rose  at  once. 

"What's  the  matter?" 

"I'm  going  to  tell  papa  myself." 

Carol  moved  uneasily  in  her  chair.  "Oh,  let  it 
go  this  time.  I — I  just  mentioned  it  to  relieve  my 
feelings.  I  won't  tell  him  yet.  I'll  talk  it  over 
with  you  again.  I'll  have  to  think  it  over  first." 

"I  think  I'd  rather  tell  him,"  insisted  Connie. 

Carol  looked  worried,  but  she  knew  Connie  would 
do  as  she  said.  So  she  got  up  nervously  and 
went  with  her.  She  would  have  to  see  it  through 
now,  of  course.  Connie  walked  silently  up  the 
stairs,  with  -  Carol  following  meekly  behind,  and 
rapped  at  her  father's  door.  Then  she  entered,  and 
Carol,  in  a  hushed  sort  of  way,  closed  the  door 
behind  them. 


234  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

"I'm  reading  this,  father.  Any  objections?" 
Connie  faced  him  calmly,  and  handed  him  the  little 
book. 

He  examined  it  gravely,  his  brows  contracting, 
a  sudden  wrinkling  at  the  corners  of  his  lips  that 
might  have  meant  laughter,  or  disapproval,  or  any- 
thing. 

"I  thought  a  parsonage  girl  should  not  read  it," 
Carol  said  bravely.  "I've  never  read  it  myself, 
but  I've  heard  about  it,  and  parsonage  girls  ought 
to  read  parsonage  things.  Prudence  says  so. 
But—" 

"But  I  want  to  know  what  other  folks  think 
about  what  I  believe,"  said  Connie.  "So  I'm  read- 
ing it." 

"What  do  you  think  of  it?"  he  asked  quietly, 
and  he  looked  very  strangely  at  his  baby  daugh- 
ter. It  was  suddenly  borne  in  on  him  that  this 
was  one  crisis  in  her  growth  to  womanhood,  and 
he  felt  a  great  yearning  tenderness  for  her,  in  her 
innocence,  in  her  dauntless  courage,  in  her  reach- 
ing ahead,  always  ahead!  It  was  a  crisis,  and  he 
must  be  very  careful. 

"I    think    it    is    beautiful,"    Connie    said    soft- 


THE  CONNIE  PROBLEM  235 

ly,  and  her  lips  drooped  a  little,  and  a  wistful  pathos 
crept  into  her  voice.  "It  seems  so  sad.  I  keep 
wishing  I  could  cry  about  it.  There's  nothing  real- 
ly sad  in  it,  I  think  it  is  supposed  to  be  rather  jo- 
vial, but — it  seems  terrible  to  me,  even  when  it  is 

the  most  beautiful.     Part  of  it  I  don't  understand 

i 

very  well." 

He  held  out  a  hand  to  Connie,  and  she  put  her 
own  in  it  confidently.  Carol,  too,  came  and  stood 
close  beside  him. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "it  is  beautiful,  Connie,  and  it  is 
yery  terrible.  We  can't  understand  it  fully  because 
we  can't  feel  what  he  felt.  It  is  a  groping  poem, 
a  struggling  for  light  when  one  is  stumbling 
in  darkness."  He  looked  thoughtfully  at  the  girls. 
"He  was  a  marvelous  man,  that  Khayyam, — years 
ahead  of  his  people,  and  his  time.  He  was  big 
enough  to  see  the  idiocy  of  the  heathen  ideas  of 
God,  he  was  beyond  them,  he  spurned  them.  But 
he  was  not  quite  big  enough  to  reach  out,  alone,  and 
get  hold  of  our  kind  of  a  God.  He  was  reaching 
out,  he  was  struggling,  but  he  couldn't  quite  catch 
hold.  It  is  a  wonderful  poem.  It  shows  the 
weakness,  the  helplessness  of  a  gifted  man  who 


236  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

has  nothing  to  cling  to.  I  think  it  will  do  you  good 
to  read  it,  Connie.  Read  it  again  and  again,  and 
thank  God,  my  child,  that  though  you  are  only  a 
girl,  you  have  the  very  thing  this  man,  this  genius, 
was  craving.  We  admire  his  talent,  but  we  pity 
his  weakness.  You  will  feel  sorry  for  him.  You 
read  it,  too,  Carol.  You'll  like  it.  We  can't  under- 
stand it,  as  I  say,  because  we  are  so  sure  of  our 
God,  that  we  can't  feel  what  he  felt,  having  noth- 
ing. But  we  can  feel  the  heartbreak,  the  fear,  the 
shrinking  back  from  the  Providence  that  he  called 
Fate, — of  course  it  makes  you  want  to  cry,  Connie. 
It  is  the  saddest  poem  in  the  world." 

Connie's  eyes  were  very  bright.  She  winked  hard 
a  few  times,  choking  back  the  rush  of  tears.  Then 
with  an  impulsiveness  she  did  not  often  show,  she 
lifted  her  father's  hand  and  kissed  it  passionately. 

"Oh,  father,"  she  whispered,  "I  was  so  afraid — • 
you  wouldn't  quite  see."  She  kissed  his  hand  again. 

Carol  looked  at  her  sister  respectfully.  "Connie," 
she  said,  "I  certainly  beg  your  pardon.  I  just 
wanted  to  be  clever,  and  didn't  know  what  I  was 
talking  about.  When  you  have  finished  it,  give  it 


THE  CONNIE  PROBLEM  237 

to  me,  will  you?    I  want  to  read  it,  too;  I  think  it 

must  be  wonderful." 

i 

She  held  out  a  slender  shapely  hand  and  Connie 
took  it  quickly,  chummily,  and  the  two  girls  turned 
toward  the  door. 

"The  danger  in  reading  things,"  said  Mr.  Starr, 
and  they  paused  to  listen,  "the  danger  is  that  we  may 
find  arguments  we  can  not  answer;  we  may  feel 
that  we  have  been  in  the  wrong,  that  what  we  read 
is  right.  There's  the  danger.  Whenever  you  find 
anything  like  that,  Connie,  will  you  bring  it  to  me? 
I  think  I  can  find  the  answer  for  you.  If  I  don't 
know  it,  I  will  look  until  I  come  upon  it.  For  we 
have  been  given  an  answer  to  every  argument. 
You'll  come  to  me,  won't  you  ?" 

"Yes,  father,  I  will — I  know  you'll  find  the  an- 
swers." 

After  the  door  had  closed  behind  them,  Mr.  Starr 
sat  for  a  long  time  staring  straight  before  him  into 
space. 

"The  Connie  problem,"  he  said  at  last.  And  then, 
"I'll  have  to  be  better  pals  with  her.  Connie's  go- 
ing to  be  pretty  fine,  I  believe." 


CHAPTER  XIV 

BOOSTING  CONNIE 

CONNIE  was  past  fifteen  when  she  announced 
gravely   one   day,    "I've   changed   my   mind. 
I'm  going  to  be  an  author." 

"An  author,"  scoffed  Carol.  "You!  I  thought 
you  were  going  to  get  married  and  have  eleven  chil- 
dren." Even  with  the  dignity  of  nineteen  years, 
the  nimble  wits  of  Carol  and  Lark  still  struggled 
with  the  irreproachable  gravity  of  Connie. 

"I  was,"  was  the  cool  retort.  "I  thought  you 
were  going  to  be  a  Red  Cross  nurse  and  go  to  war." 

Carol  blushed  a  little.  "I  was,"  she  assented, 
"but  there  isn't  any  war." 

"Well,"  even  in  triumph,  Connie  was  imperturb- 
able, "there  isn't  any  father  for  my  eleven  children 
either." 

The  twins  had  to  admit  that  this  was  an  obstacle, 
and  they  yielded  gracefully. 

238 


BOOSTING  CONNIE  239 

"But  an  author,  Connie,"  said  Lark.  "It's  very 
hard.  I  gave  it  up  long  ago." 

"I  know  you  did.  But  I  don't  give  up  very 
easily." 

"You  gave  up  your  eleven  children." 

"Oh,  I've  plenty  of  time  for  them  yet,  when  I 
find  a  father  for  them.  Yes,  I'm  going  to  be  an 
author." 

"Can  you  write?" 

"Of  course  I  can  write." 

"Well,  you  have  conceit  enough  to  be  anything," 
said  Carol  frankly.  "Maybe  you'll  make  it  go, 
after  all.  I  should  like  to  have  an  author  in  the 
family  and  since  Lark's  lost  interest,  I  suppose  it 
will  have  to  be  you.  I  couldn't  think  of  risking  my 
complexion  at  such  a  precarious  livelihood.  But  if 
you  get  stuck,  I'll  be  glad  to  help  you  out  a  little.  I 
really  have  an  imagination  myself,  though  perhaps 
you  wouldn't  think  it." 

"What  makes  you  think  you  can  write,  Con?" 
inquired  Lark,  with  genuine  interest. 

"I  have  already  done  it." 

"Was  it  any  good?" 

"It  was  fine." 


24Q  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

Carol  and  Lark  smiled  at  each  other. 

"Yes,"  said  Carol,  "she  has  the  long-haired  in- 
stinct. I  see  it  now.  They  always  say  it  is  fine. 
Was  it  a  masterpiece,  Connie  ?"  And  when  Connie 
hesitated,  she  urged,  "Come  on,  confess  it.  Then 
we  shall  be  convinced  that  you  have  found  your 
field.  They  are  always  masterpieces.  Was  yours?" 

"Well,  considering  my  youth  and  inexperience, 
it  was,"  Connie  admitted,  her  eyes  sparkling  ap- 
preciatively. Carol's  wit  was  no  longer  lost  upon 
her,  at  any  rate. 

"Bring  it  out.  Let's  see  it.  I've  never  met  a 
masterpiece  yet, — except  a  dead  one,"  said  Lark. 

"No — no,"  Connie  backed  up  quickly.  "You 
can't  see  it,  and — don't  ask  any  more  about  it.  Has 
father  gone  out?" 

The  twins  stared  at  her  again.  "What's  the  mat- 
ter with  you?" 

"Nothing,  but  it's  my  story  and  you  can't  see  it. 
That  settles  it.  Was  there  any  mail  to-day  ?" 

Afterward  the  twins  talked  it  over  together. 

"What  made  her  back  down  like  that?"  Carol 
wondered.  "Just  when  we  had  her  going." 

"Why,  didn't  you  catch  on  to  that  ?     She  has  sent 


BOOSTING  CONNIE  241 

it  off  to  a  magazine,  of  course,  and  she  doesn't 
want  us  to  know  about  it.  I  saw  through  it  right 
away." 

Carol  looked  at  her  twin  with  new  interest. 
"Did  you  ever  send  'em  off?" 

Lark  flushed  a  little.  "Yes,  I  did,  and  always 
got  'em  back,  too — worse  luck.  ^That's  why  I  gave 
it  up." 

"What  did  you  do  with  them  when  they  came 
back?" 

"Burned  them.  ^They  always  burn  them.  Con- 
nie'll  get  hers  back,  and  she'll  burn  it,  too,"  was 
the  laconic  answer. 

"An  author,"  mused  Carol.  "Do  you  think  she'll 
ever  make  it?" 

"Well,  honestly,  I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  she 
did.  Connie's  smart,  and  she  never  gives  up.  Then 
she  has  a  way  of  saying  things  that — well,  it  takes. 
I  really  believe  she'll  make  it,  if  she  doesn't  get 
off  on  suffrage  or  some  other  queer  thing  before 
she  gets  to  it." 

"I'll  have  to  keep  an  eye  on  her,"  said  Carol. 

"You  wait  until  she  can't  eat  a  meal,  and  then 
you'll  know  she's  got  it  back.  Many's  the  time 


242  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

Prudence  made  me  take  medicine,  just  because  I 
got  a  story  back.  Prudence  thought  it  was  tummy- 
ache.  The  symptoms  are  a  good  bit  the  same." 

So  Carol  watched,  and  sure  enough,  there  came 
a  day  when  the  bright  light  of  hope  in  Connie's 
eyes  gave  way  to  the  sober  sadness  of  certainty. 
Her  light  had  failed.  And  she  couldn't  eat  her 
dinner. 

Lark  kicked  Carol's  foot  under  the  table,  and  the 
two  exchanged  amused  glances. 

"Connie's  not  well,"  said  Lark  with  a  worried 
air.  "She  isn't  eating  a  thing.  You'd  better  give 
her  a  dose  of  that  tonic,  Aunt  Grace.  Prudence 
says  the  first  sign  of  decay  is  the  time  for  a  tonic. 
Give  her  a  dose." 

Lark  solemnly  rose  and  fetched  the  bottle.  Aunt 
Grace  looked  at  Connie  inquiringly.  Connie's 
face  was  certainly  pale,  and  her  eyes  were  weary. 
And  she  was  not  eating  her  dinner. 

"I'm  not  sick,"  the  crushed  young  author  pro- 
tested. "I'm  just  not  hungry.  You  trot  that  bottle 
back  to  the  cupboard,  Lark,  and  don't  get  gay." 

"You  can  see  for  yourself,"  insisted  Lark.  "Look 
at  her.  Isn't  she  sick?  Many's  the  long  illness 


BOOSTING  CONNIE  24 

Prudence  staved  off  for  me  by  a  dose  of  this  magic 
tonic.  You'd  better  make  her  take  it,  father.  YOU 
can  see  she's  sick."  The  lust  of  a  sweeping  family 
revenge  showed  in  Lark's  clear  eyes. 

"YouM  better  take  a  little,  Connie,"  her  father 
decided.  "You  don't  look  very  well  to-day." 

"But,  father,"  pleaded  Connie. 

"A  dose  in  time  saves  a  doctor  bill,"  quoted  Carol 
sententiously.  "Prudence  says  so." 

And  the  aspiring  young  genius  was  obliged  to 
swallow  the  bitter  dose.  Then,  with  the  air  of  one 
who  has  rendered  a  boon  to  mankind,  Lark  returned 
to  her  chair. 

After  the  meal  was  over,  Carol  shadowed  Connie 
tlosely.  Sure  enough,  she  headed  straight  for  her 
own  room,  and  Carol,  close  outside,  heard  a  crump- 
ling of  paper.  She  opened  the  door  quickly  and 
went  in.  Connie  turned,  startled,  a  guilty  red 
staining  her  pale  face.  Carol  sat  down  sociably 
on  the  side  of  the  bed,  politely  ignoring  Connie's 
feeble  attempt  to  keep  the  crumpled  manuscript 
'from  her  sight.  She  engaged  her  sister  in  a  broad- 
minded  and  sweeping  conversation,  adroitly  leading 
it  up  to  the  subject  of  literature.  But  Connie  would 


244  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

not  be  inveigled  into  a  confession.  Then  Carol 
took  a  wide  leap. 

"Did  you  get  the  story  back?" 

Connie  gazed  at  her  with  an  awe  that  was  al- 
most superstitious.  Then,  in  relief  at  having  the 
confidence  forced  from  her,  tears  brightened  her 
eyes,  but  being  Connie,  she  winked  them  stubbornly 
back. 

"I  sure  did,"  she  said. 

"Hard  luck,"  said  Carol,  in  a  matter-of-fact 
voice.  "Eet's  see  it." 

Connie  hesitated,  but  finally  passed  it  over. 

"I'll  take  it  to  my  own  room  and  read  it  if  you 
don't  mind.  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  it 
now?" 

"Burn  it" 

"Let  me  have  it,  won't  you  ?  I'll  hide  it  and  keep 
it  Tor  a  souvenir." 

"Will  you  keep  it  hidden?  LYou  won't  pass  it 
around  for  the  family  to  laugh  at,  will  you  ?" 

Carol  gazed  at  her  reproachfully,  rose  from  the 
bed  in  wounded  dignity  and  moved  away  with  the 
story  in  Her  hand.  Connie  followed  her  to  the 
door  and  said  humbly : 


BOOSTING  CONNIE  245 

"Excuse  me,  Carol,  I  know  you  wouldn't  do  such 
a  thing.  But  a  person  does  feel  so  ashamed  of  a 
story — when  it  comes  back." 

"That's  all  right,"  was  the  kind  answer.  "I 
know  just  how  it  is.  I  have  the  same  feel- 
ing when  I  get  a  pimple  on  my  face.  I'll  keep  it 
dark." 

More  eagerly  than  she  would  have  liked  Connie 
to  know,  she  curled  herself  upon  the  bed  to  read 
Connie's  masterpiece.  It  was  a  simple  story,  but 
Connie  did  have  a  way  of  saying  things,  and — 
Carol  laid  it  down  in  her  lap  and  stared  at  it 
thoughtfully.  Then  she  called  Lark. 

"Look  here,"  she  said  abruptly.  "Read  this. 
It's  the  masterpiece." 

She  maintained  a  perfect  silence  while  Lark 
perused  the  crumpled  manuscript. 

"How  is  it?" 

"Why,  it's  not  bad,"  declared  Lark  in  a  sur- 
prised voice.  "It's  not  half  bad.  It's  Connie  all 
right,  isn't  it?  Well,  what  do  you  know  about 
that?" 

"Is  it  any  good?"  pursued  Carol. 

"Why,  yes,  I  think  it  is.     It's  just  like  folks  you 


246  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

know.  They  talk  as  we  do,  and — I'm  surprised 
they  didn't  keep  it.  I've  read  'em  a  whole  lot 
worse !" 

"Connie's  disappointed,"  Carol  said.  "I  think 
she  needs  a  little  boost.  I  believe  she'll  really  get 
there  if  we  kind  of  crowd  her  along  for  a  while. 
She  told  me  to  keep  this  dark,  and  so  I  will.  We'll 
just  copy  it  over,  and  send  it  out  again." 

"And  if  it  conies  back?" 

"We'll  send  it  again.  We'll  get  the  name  of 
every  magazine  in  the  library,  and  give  'em  all  a 
chance  to  start  the  newest  author  on  the  rosy  way." 

"It'll  take  a  lot  of  stamps." 

"That's  so.  Do  you  have  to  enclose  enough  to 
bring  them  back?  I  don't  like  that.  Seems  to  me 
it's  just  tempting  Providence.  If  they  want  to 
send  them  back,  they  ought  to  pay  for  doing  it.  I 
say  we  just  enclose  a  note  taking  it  for  granted 
they'll  keep  it,  and  tell  them  where  to  send  the 
money.  And  never  put  a  stamp  in  sight  for  them 
to  think  of  using  up." 

"We  can't  do  that.     It's  bad  manners." 

"Well,  I  have  half  a  dollar,"  admitted  Carol 
reluctantly. 


BOOSTING  CONNIE  247 

After  that  the  weeks  passed  by.  The  twins  saw 
finally  the  shadow  of  dissappointment  leaving  Con- 
nie's face,  and  another  expression  of  absorption 
take  its  place. 

"She's  started  another  one,'*  Lark  said,  wise  in 
her  personal  experience. 

And  when  there  came  the  starry  rapt  gaze  once 
more,  they  knew  that  this  one,  too,  had  gone  to 
meet  its  fate.  But  before  the  second  blow  fell,  the 
twins  gained  their  victory.  They  embraced  each 
other  feverishly,  and  kissed  the  precious  check  a 
hundred  times,  and  insisted  that  Connie  was  the 
cleverest  little  darling  that  ever  lived  on  earth. 
Then,  when  Connie,  with  their  father  and  aunt,  was 
sitting  in  unsuspecting  quiet,  they  tripped  in  upon 
her. 

"We  have  something  to  read  to  you,"  said  Carol 
beaming  paternally  at  Connie.  "Listen  attentively. 
Put  down  your  paper,  father.  It's  important.  Go 
on,  Larkie." 

"My  'dear  Miss  Starr,"  read  Lark.  "We  are 
yery  much  pleased  with  your  story/' — Connie 


248          PRUDENCE  SAYS  so 

sprang  suddenly  from  her  chair — "your  story, 
'When  the  Rule  worked  Backwards.'  We  are  plac- 
ing it  in  one  of  our  early  numbers,  and  shall  be  glad 
at  any  time  to  have  the  pleasure  of  examining  more 
of  your  work.  We  enclose  our  check  for  forty-five 
dollars.  Thanking  you,  and  assuring  you!  of  the 
satisfaction  with  which  we  have  read  your  story,  I 
am, 

"Very  cor'dially  yours," — • 


"Tra,  lalalalala!"  sang  the  twins,  dancing  around 
the  room,  waving,  one  the  letter,  the  other  the  check. 

Connie's  face  was  pale,  and  she  caught  her  head 
with  both  hands,  laughingly  nervously.  "I'm  going 
round,"  she  gasped.  "Stop  me." 

Carol  promptly  pushed  her  down  in  a  chair  and 
sat  upon  her  lap. 

"Pretty  good, — eh,  what  ?" 

"Oh,  Carol,  don't  say  that,  it  sounds  awful," 
cautioned  Lark. 

"What  do  you  think  about  it,  Connie?  Pretty 
fair  boost  for  a  struggling  young  author,  don't  you 


BOOSTING  CONNIE  249 

think?  Family,  arise!  The  Chautauqua  salute! 
We  have  arrived.  Connie  is  an  author.  Forty- 
five  dollars!" 

"But  however  did  you  do  it?"  wondered  Connie 
breathlessly. 

"Why,  we  sent  it  out,  and — " 

"Just  once?" 

"Alas,  no, — we  sent  it  seven  times." 

"Oh,  girls,  how  could  you !  Think  of  the  stamps ! 
I'm  surprised  you  had  the  money." 

"Remember  that  last  quarter  we  borrowed  of 
you?  Well!" 

Connie  laughed  excitedly.  "Oh,  oh! — forty-five 
dollars !  Think  of  it.  Oh,  father !" 

"Where's  the  story,"  he  asked,  a  little  jealously. 
"Why  didn't  you  let  me  look  it  over,  Connie?" 

"Oh,  father,  I— couldn't.  I— I— I  felt  shy 
about  it.  You  don't  know  how  it  is  father,  but — • 
we  want  to  keep  them  hidden.  We  don't  get  proud 
of  them  until  they've  been  accepted." 

"Forty-five  dollars."  Aunt  Grace  kissed  her 
warmly.  "And  the  letter  is  worth  a  hundred  times 
more  to  us  than  that.  And  when  we  see  the 
story—" 


25Q  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

"We'll  go  thirds  on  the  money,  twins,"  said  Con- 
nie. 

The  twins  looked  eager,  but  conscientious.  "No," 
they  said,  "it's  just  a  boost,  you  know.  We  can't 
take  the  money." 

"Oh,  you've  got  to  go  thirds.  You  ought  to  have 
it  all.  I  would  have  burned  it." 

"No,  Connie,"  said  Carol,  "we  know  you  aren't 
worth  devotion  like  ours,  but  we  donate  it  just  the 
same — it's  gratis." 

"All  right,"  smiled  Connie.  "I  know  what  you 
want,  anyhow.  Come  on,  auntie,  let's  go  down 
town.  I'm  afraid  that  silver  silk  mull  will  be  sold 
before  we  get  there." 

The  twins  fell  upon  her  ecstatically.  "Oh,  Con- 
nie, you  musn't.  We  can't  allow  it.  Oh,  of  course 
if  you  insist,  dearest,  only — "  And  then  they  rushed 
to  find  hats  and  gloves  for  their  generous  sister  and 
devoted  aunt. 

The  second  story  came  back  in  due  time,  but  with 
the  boost  still  strong  in  her  memory,  and  with  the 
fifteen  dollars  in  the  bank,  Connie  bore  it  bravely 
and  started  it  traveling  once  more.  Most  of  the 
stories  never  did  find  a  permanent  lodging  place,  and 


BOOSTING  CONNIE  251 

Connie  carried  an  old  box  to  the  attic  for  a  reposi- 
tory for  her  mental  fruits  that  couldn't  make 
friends  away  from  home.  But  she  never  despaired 
again. 

And  the  twins,  after  their  own  manner,  calmly 
took  to  themselves  full  credit  for  the  career  which 
they  believed  lay  not  far  before  her.  They  even 
boasted  of  the  way  they  had  raised  her  and  told 
fatuous  and  exaggerated  stories  of  their  pride  in 
her,  and  their  gentle  sisterly  solicitude  for  her  from 
the  time  of  her  early  babyhood.  'And  Connie  gave 
assent  to  every  word.  In  her  heart  she  admitted 
that  the  twins'  discipline  of  her,  though  exceedingly 
drastic  at  times,  had  been  splendid  literary  experi- 
ence. 


CHAPTER  XV 
A  MILLIONAIRE'S  SON 

44  TF  Jim  doesn't  ask  for  a  date  for  the  concert 

JL  next  week,  Lark,  let's  snub  him  good." 

"But  we  both  have  dates,"  protested  Lark. 

"What  difference  does  that  make?  We  mustn't 
let  him  get  independent.  He  always  has  asked  one 
of  us,  and  he  needn't  think  we  shall  let  him;  off 
now." 

"Oh,  don't  worry,"  interrupted  Connie.  "He 
always  asks.  You  have  that  same  discussion  every 
time  there's  anything  going  on.  It's  just  a  waste 
of  time." 

Mr.  Starr  looked  up  from  his  mail.  "Soup  of 
boys,  and  salad  of  boys, — they're  beginning  to  pall 
on  my  palate." 

"Very  classy  expression  father,"  approved  Carol. 
"Maybe  you  can  work  it  into  a  sermon." 

"Complexion  and  boys  with  Carol,  books  and 
boys  with  Lark,  Connie,  if  you  begin  that  nonsense 

252 


A  MILLIONAIRE'S  SON  253 

you'll  get  spanked.  One  member  of  my  family 
shall  rise  above  it  if  I  have  to  do  it  with  force." 

Connie  blushed. 

The  twins  broke  into  open  derision.  "Connie! 
Oh,  yes,  Connie's  above  that  nonsense." 

"Connie's  the  worst  in  the  family,  father,  only 
she's  one  of  these  reserved,  supercilious  souls  who 
doesn't  tell  everything  she  knows." 

"  'Nonsense.'  I  wish  father  could  have  heard 
Lee  Hanson  last  night.  It  would  have  been  a 
revelation  to  him.  'Aw,  go  on,  Connie,  give  us  a 
kiss/  " 

Connie  caught  her  lips  between  her  teeth.  Her 
face  was  scarlet. 

"Twins!" 

"It's  a  fact,  father.  He  kept  us  awake.  'Aw,  go 
on,  Connie,  be  good  to  a  fellow.' ' 

"That's  what  makes  us  so  pale  to-day, — he  kept 
us  awake  hours!" 

"Carol!" 

"Well,  quite  a  while  anyhow." 

"I — I — "  began  Connie  defensively. 

"Well,  we  know  it.  Don't  interrupt  when  we're 
telling  things.  You  always  spoil  a  good  story  by 


254  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

cutting  in.  'Aw,  go  on,  Connie,  go  on  now!'  And 
Connie  said — "  The  twins  rocked  off  in  a  parox- 
ysm of  laughter,  and  Connie  flashed  a  murderous 
look  at  them. 

"Prudence  says  listening  is — •" 

"Sure  she  does,  and  she's  right  about  it,  too. 
But  what  can  a  body  do  when  folks  plant  them- 
selves right  beneath  your  window  to  pull  off  their 
little  Romeo  concerto.  We  can't  smother  on  nights 
like  these.  'Aw,  go  on,  Connie/  ' 

"I  wanted  to  drop  a  pillow  on  his  head,  but  Carol 
was  afraid  he'd  run  off  with  the  pillow,  so  we  just 
sacrificed  ourselves  and  let  it  proceed." 

"Well,  I—" 

"Give  us  time,  Connie.  We're  coming  to  that. 
And  Connie  said,  Tm  going  in  now,  I'm  sleepy.' ' 

"I  didn't—father,  I  didn't!" 

"Well,  you  might  have  said  a  worse  thing  than 
that,"  he  told  her  sadly. 

"I  mean— I—" 

"She  did  say  it,"  fcried  the  twins.  "  'I'm  sleepy.' 
Just  like  that." 

"Oh,  Connie's  the  girl  for  sentiment,"  exclaimed 
Lark.  "Sleepy  is  not  a  romantic  word  and  it's  not 


A  MILLIONAIRE'S  SON  255 

a  sentimental  feeling,  but  it  can  be  drawled  put  so 
it  sounds  a  little  mushy  at  least.  'I  sleep,  my  love, 
to  dream  of  thee/ — for  instance.  But  Connie 
didn't  do  it  that  way.  Nix.  Just  plain  sleep,  and 
it  sounded  like  'Get  out,  and  have  a  little  sense.' ' 

"Well,  it  would  make  you  sick,"  declared  Connie^ 
wrinkling  up  her  nose  to  express  her  disgust.  "Are 
boys  always  like  that  father?" 

"Don't  ask  me,"  he  hedged  promptly.  "How; 
should  I  know?" 

"Oh,  Connie,  how  can  you!  There's  father — • 
now,  he  never  cared  to  kiss  the  girls  even  in  his  bad 
and  balmy  days,  did  you,  daddy?  Oh,  no,  father 
was  all  for  the  strictly  orthodox  even  in  his  youth !" 

Mr.  Starr  returned  precipitately  to  his  mail,  and 
the  twins  calmly  resumed  the  discussion  where  it 
had  been  interrupted. 

A  little  later  a  quick  exclamation  from  their 
father  made  them  turn  to  him  inquiringly. 

"It's  a  shame,"  he  said,  and  again:  "What  a 
shame!" 

The  girls  waited  expectantly.  When  he  only 
continued  frowning  at  the  letter  in  his  hand,  Carol 
spoke  up  brightly,  "Yes,  isn't  it?" 


256  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

Even  then  he  did  not  look  up,  and  real  concern 
settled  over  their  expressive  faces.  "Father !  Can't 
you  see  we're  listening?" 

He  looked  up,  vaguely  at  first,  then  smiling.  "Ah, 
roused  your  curiosity,  did  I  ?  Well,  it's  just  another 
phase  of  this  eternal  boy  question." 

Carol  leaned  forward  ingratiatingly.  "Now  in- 
deed, we  are  all  absorption." 

"Why,  it's  a  letter  from  Andrew  Hedges, — an 
old  college  chum  of  mine.  His  son  is  going  west 
and  Andy  is  sending  him  around  this  way  to  see  me 
and  meet  my  family.  He'll  be  here  this  afternoon. 
Isn't  it  a  shame?" 

"Isn't  it  lovely  ?"  exclaimed  Carol.  "We  can  use 
him  to  make  Jim  Forrest  jealous  if  he  doesn't  ask 
for  that  date?"  And  she  rose  up  and  kissed  her 
father. 

"Will  you  kindly  get  back  to  your  seat,  young 
lady,  and  not  interfere  with  my  thoughts?"  he  re- 
proved her  sternly  but  with  twinkling  eyes.  "The 
trouble  is  I  have  to  go  to  Fort  Madison  on  the  noon 
train  for  that  Epworth  League  convention.  I'd 
like  to  see  that  boy.  Andy's  done  well,  I  guess. 
I've  always  heard  so.  He's  a  millionaire,  they  say." 


A  MILLIONAIRE'S  SON  257 

For  a  long  second  his  daughters  gazed  at  him 
speechlessly. 

Then,  "A!  millionaire's  son,"  Lark  faltered  feebly. 

"Yes." 

"Why  on  earth  didn't  you  say  so  in  the  first 
place?"  demanded  Carol. 

"What  difference  does  that  make?" 

"It  makes  all  the  difference  in  the  world!  Ah! 
A  millionaire's  son."  She  looked  at  Lark  with 
keen  speculative  eyes.  "Good-looking,  I  suppose, 
young,  of  course,  and  impressionable.  A  million- 
aire's son." 

"But  I  have  to  go  to  Fort  Madison.  I  am  on  the 
program  to-night.  There's  the  puzzle." 

"Oh,  father,  you  can  leave  him  to  us,"  volunteered 
Lark. 

"I'm  afraid  you  mightn't  carry  it  off  well 
You're  so  likely  to  run  by  fits  and  jumps,  you  know 
I  should  hate  it  if  things  went  badly." 

"Oh,  father,  things  couldn't  go  badly,"  protested 
Carol.  "We'll  be  lovely,  just  lovely.  A  million- 
aire's son !  Oh,  yes,  daddy,  you  can  trust  him  to  us 
all  right." 

At  last  he  caught  the  drift  of  their  enthusiasm. 


258  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

"Ah!  I  see!  That  fatal  charm.  You're  sure 
you'll  treat  him  nicely?" 

"Oh,  yes,  father,  so  sure.  A  millionaire's  son. 
We've  never  even  seen  one  yet." 

"Now  look  here,  girls,  fix  the  house  up  and  carry 
it  off  the  best  you  can.  I  have  a  lot  of  old 
friends  in  Cleveland,  and  I  want  them  to  think  I've 
got  the  dandiest  little  family  on  earth." 

"'Dandiest'!  Father,  you  will  forget  yourself 
in  the  pulpit  some  day, — you  surely  will.  And 
when  we  take  such  pains  with  you,  too,  I  can't 
understand  where  you  get  it!  The  people  you 
associate  with,  I  suppose." 

"Do  your  best,  girls.  I'm  hoping  for  a  good 
report.  I'll  be  gone  until  the  end  of  the  week, 
since  I'm  on  for  the  last  night,  too.  Will  you  do 
your  best?" 

After  his  departure,  Carol  gathered  the  'family 
forces  about  her  without  a  moment's  delay. 

"A  millionaire's  son,"  she  prefaced  her  remarks, 
and  as  she  had  expected,  was  "rewarded  with  im- 
mediate attention.  "Now,  for  darling  father's  sake, 
we've  got  to  manage  this  thing  the  very  best  we 
can.  We  have  to  make  this  Andy  Hedges, 


A  MILLIONAIRE'S  SON  259 

Millionaire's  Son,  think  we're  just  about  all  right, 
for  father's  sake.  We  must  have  a  gorgeous  din- 
ner, to  start  with.  We'll  plan  that  a  little  later. 
Now  I  think,  Aunt  Grace,  lovely,  it  would  be  nice 
for  you  to  wear  your  lavender  lace  gown,  and  look 
delicate,  don't  you?  A  chaperoning  auntie  in  poor 
health  is  so  aristocratic.  You  must  wear  the  laven- 
der satin  slippers  and  have  a  bottle  of  cologne  to 
lift  frequently  to  your  sensitive  nostrils." 

"Why,  Carol,  William  wouldn't  like  it!" 

"Wouldn't  like  it!"  ejaculated  the  schemer  in 
surprise.  "Wouldn't  like  it!  Why  wouldn't  he 
like  it?  Didn't  he  tell  us  to  Create  a  good  im- 
pression? Well,  this  is  it.  You'll  make  a  lovely 
semi-invalid  auntie.  You  must  have  a  faintly  per- 
fumed handkerchief  to  press  to  your  eyes  now  and 
then.  It  isn't  hot  enough  for  you  slowly  to  wield 
a  graceful  fan,  but  we  can  get  along  without  it." 

"But,  Carol—" 

"Think  how  pleased  dear  father  will  be  if  his  old 
college  chum's  son  is  properly  impressed,"  inter- 
rupted Carol  hurriedly,  and  groceeded  at  once  with 
her  plans. 

"Connie  must  be  a  precocious  younger  sister,  all 


2-6o  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

in  white, — she  must  come  in  late  with  a  tennis 
racquet,  as  though  she  had  just  returned  from  a 
game.  That  will  be  stagey,  won't  it?  Lark  must 
be  the  sweet  young  daughter  of  the  home.  She 
must  wear  her  silver  mull,  her  gray  slippers,  and — " 

"I  can't,"  said  Lark.  "I  spilt  grape  juice  on  if. 
And  I  kicked  the  toe  out  of  one  of  my  slippers." 

"You'll  have  to  wear  mine  then.  Fortunately 
that  silver  mull  was  always  too  tight  for  me  and  I 
never  comported  myself  in  it  with  freedom  and 
destructive  ease.  As  a  consequence,  it  is  fresh  and 
charming.  You  must  arrange  your  hair  in  the 
most  Ladies'  Home  Journal  style,  and — " 

"What  are  you  going  to  wear?" 

"Who,  me?  Oh,  I  have  other  plans  for  myself." 
Carol  looked  rather  uneasily  at  her  aunt.  "I'll 
come  to  me  a  little  later." 

"Yes,  indeed,"  said  Connie.  "Carol  has  some- 
thing extra  up  her  sleeve.  She's  had  the  million- 
aire's son  in  her  mind's  eye  ever  since  father  intro- 
duced his  pocketbook  into  the  conversation." 

Carol  was  unabashed.  "My  interest  is  solely 
from  a  family  view-point.  I  have  no  ulterior 
motive." 


A  MILLIONAIRE'S  SON  261 

Her  eyes  sparkled  eagerly.  "You  know,  auntie 
'darling — " 

"Now,  Carol,  don't  you  suggest  anything — " 

"Oh,  no  indeed,  dearest,  how  could  you  think  of 
such  a  thing?"  disclaimed  Carol  instantly.  "It's 
such  a  very  tiny  thing,  but  it  will  mean  a  whole  lot 
on  the  general  impression  of  a  millionaire's  son. 
We've  simply  got  to  have  a  maid!  To  open  the 
door,  and  curtesy,  and  take  his  hat,  and  serve  the 
dinner,  and — •  He's  used  to  it,  you  know,  and  if  we 
haven't  one,  he'll  go  back  to  Cleveland  and  say, 
'Ah,  bah  Jove,  I  had  to  hang  up  my  own  hat,  don't 
you  know  ?' ' 

"That's  supposed  to  be  English,  but  I  don't  be- 
lieve it.  Anyhow,  it  isn't  Cleveland,"  said  Connie 
flatly. 

"Well,  he'd  think  we  were  awfully  cheap  and 
hard  up,  and  Andy  Hedges,  Senior,  would  pity 
father,  and  maybe  send  him  ten  dollars,  and — no, 
>ve've  got  to  have  a  maid !" 

"We  might  get  Mamie  Sickey,"  suggested  Lark. 

"She's  so  ugly." 

"Or  Fay  Greer,"  interposed  Aunt  Grace. 

"She'd  spill  the  soup." 


'2.62  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

"Then  there's  nobody  but  Ada  Lone,"  decided 
Connie. 

"She  hasn't  anything  fit  to  wear,"  objected  Carol. 

"Of  whom  were  you  thinking,  Carol?"  asked  her 
iaunt,  moving  uneasily  in  her  chair. 

Carol  flung  herself  at  her  aunt's  knees,  "Me!" 
she  cried. 

"As  usual,"  Connie  ejaculated  dryly. 

"Oh,  Carol,"  wailed  Lark,  "we  can't  think  of 
things  to  talk  about  when  you  aren't  there  to  keep 
us  stirred  up." 

"I'm  beginning  to  see  daylight,"  said  Connie. 
She  looked  speculatively  at  Lark.  "Well,  it's  not 
half  bad,  Carol,  and  I  apologize." 

"Don't  you  think  it  is  a  glorious  idea,  Connie?" 
pried  Carol  rapturously. 

"Yes,  I  think  it  is." 

Carol  caught  her  sister's  hand.  Here  was  an 
ally  worth  having.  "You  know  how  sensible  Con- 
nie is,  auntie.  She  sees  how  utterly  preposterous  if 
would  be  to  think  of  entertaining  a  millionaire's 
son  without  a  maid." 

"You're  too  pretty,"  protested  Lark.  "He'd  try 
to  kiss  you." 


A  MILLIONAIRE'S  SON  263 

"  'Oh,  no,  sir,  oh,  please,  sir/  "  simpered  Carol, 
with  an  adorable  curtesy,  "  'you'd  better  wait  for 
the  ladies,  sir.' ' 

"Oh,  Carol,  I  think  t  you're  awful,"  said  their 
aunt  unhappily.  "I  know  your  father  won't  like  it." 

"Like  it?     He'll  love  it.     Won't  he,  Connie?" 

"Well,  I'm  not  sure  he'll  be  crazy  about  it,  but 
it'll  be  all  over  when  he  gets  home,"  said  Connie. 

"And  you're  very  much  in  favor  of  it,  aren't  you, 
Connie  precious?" 

"Yes,  I  am."  Connie  looked  at  Lark  critically 
again.  "We  must  get  Lark  some  bright  flowers 
to  wear  with  the  silver  dress — sweet  peas  would  be 
good.  But  I  won't  pay  for  them,  and  you  can  put 
that  down  right  now." 

"But  what's  the  idea?"  mourned  Lark.  "What's 
the  sense  in  it?  Father  said  to  be  good  to  him, 
and  you  know  I  can't  think  of  things  to  say  to  a 
millionaire's  son.  Oh,  Carol,  don't  be  so  mean." 

"You  must  practise  up.  You  must  be  girlish, 
and  light-hearted,  and  ingenuous,  you  know. 
That'll  be  very  effective." 

"You  do  it,  Carol.  Let  me  be  the  maid.  You're 
lots  more  effective  than  I  am." 


264  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

But  Carol  stood  firm,  and  tHe  others  yielded  to 
her  persuasions.  They  didn't  approve,  they  didn't 
sanction,  but  they  did  get  enthusiastic,  and  a  merrier 
houseful  of  masqueraders  was  never  found  than 
that.  Even  Aunt  Grace  allowed  her  qualms  to  be 
quieted  and  entered  into  her  part  as  semi-invalid 
auntie  with  genuine  zest. 

At  three  they  were  all  arrayed,  ready  for  the 
presentation.  They  assembled  socially  in  the  parlor, 
the  dainty  maid  ready  to  fly  to  her  post  at  a  sec- 
ond's warning.  At  four  o'clock,  they  were  a  little 
fagged  and  near  the  point  of  exasperation,  but  they 
still  held  their  characters  admirably.  At  half  past 
four  a  telegraph  message  was  phoned  out  from  the 
station. 

"Delayed  in  coming.  Will  write  you  later.  Very 
sorry.  Andy  Hedges,  Jr." 

Only  the  absolute  ludicrousness  of  it  saved  Carol 
'from  a  rage.  She  looked  from  the  girlish  tennis 
girl  to  the  semi-invalid  auntie,  and  then  to  the 
sweet  young  daughter  of  the  home,  and  burst  out 
laughing.  The  others,  though  tired,  nervous  and 


A  MILLIONAIRE'S  SON  265 

disappointed,  joined  her  merrily,  and  the  vexation 
was  swept  away. 

The  next  morning,  Aunt  Grace  went  as  usual  to 
the  all-day  meeting  of  the  Ladies'  Aid  in  the  church 
parlors.  Carol  and  Lark,  with  a  light  lunch,  went 
out  for  a  few  hours  of  spring-time  happiness  be- 
side the  creek  two  miles  from  town. 

"We'll  come  back  right  after  luncheon,"  Carol 
promised,  "so  if  Andy  the  Second  should  come, 
we'll  be  on  hand." 

"Oh,  he  won't  come  to-day." 

"Well,  he  just  better  get  here  before  father  comes 
home.  I  know  father  will  like  our  plan  after  it's 
over,  but  I  also  know  he'll  veto  it  if  he  gets  home  in 
time.  Wish  you  could  go  with  us,  Connie." 

"Thanks.  But  I've  got  to  sew  on  forty  buttons. 
'And — if  I  pick  the  cherries  on  the  little  tree,  will 
you  make  a  pie  for  dinner  ?" 

"Yes.  If  I'm  too  tired  Larkie  will.  Do  pick 
them,  Con,  the  birds  have  had  more  than  their 
ishare  now." 

After  her  sisters  had  disappeared,  Connie  con- 
sidered the  day's  program. 

"I'll  pick  the  cherries  while  it's  cool,    Then  I'll 


266  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

sew  on  the  buttons.  Then  I'll  call  on  the  Piersons, 
and  they'll  probably  invite  me  to  stay  for  luncheon." 
And  she  went  up-stairs  to  don  a  garment  suitable 
for  cherry-tree  service.  For  cherry  trees,  though 
lovely  to  behold  when  laden  with  bright  red  clusters 
showing  among  the  bright  green  leaves,  are  not  at 
all  lovely  to  climb  into.  Connie  knew  that  by  ex- 
perience. Belonging  to  a  family  that  wore  its 
fclothes  as  long  as  they  possessed  any  wearing  vir- 
tue, she  found  nothing  in  her  immediate  wardrobe 
fitted  for  the  venture.  But  from  a  rag-bag  in  the 
closet  at  the  head  of  the  stairs,  she  resurrected  some 
remains  of  last  summer's  apparel.  First  she  put  on 
a  blue  calico,  but  the  skirt  was  so  badly  torn  in 
places  that  it  proved  insufficiently  protecting. 
Further  search  brough  to  light  another  skirt, 
pink,  in  a  still  worse  state  of  delapidation.  How- 
ever, since  the  holes  did  not  occur  simultaneously 
in  the  two  g-arments,  by  wearing  both  she  was  amply 
covered.  For  a  waist  she  wore  a  red  crape  dress- 
ing sacque,  and  about  her  hair  she  tied  a  broad, 
ragged  ribbon  of  red  to  protect  the  soft  waves  from 
the  ruthless  twigs.  She  looked  at  herself  in  the 
mirror.  Nothing  daunted  by  the  sight  of  her  own 


A  MILLIONAIRE'S  SON  267 

unsightliness,  she  took  a  bucket  and  went  into  the 
back  yard. 

Gingerly  she  climbed'  into  the  tree,  gingerly  be- 
cause Connie  was  not  fond  of  scratches  on  her 
anatomy,  and  then  began  her  task.  It  was  a  glori- 
ous morning.  The  birds,  frightened  away  by  the 
living  scare-crow  in  the  tree,  perched  in  other, 
cherry-less  trees  around  her  and  burst  into  derisive 
song.  And  Connie,  light-hearted,  free  from  care, 
in  love  with  the  whole  wide  world,  sang,  too,  paus- 
ing only  now-  and  then*  to  thrust  a  ripe  cherry  be- 
tween her  teeth. 

She  did  not  hear  the  prolonged  ringing  of  the 
front-door  bell.  She  did  not  observe  the  young 
man  in  the  most  immaculate  of  white  spring  suits 
who  came  inquiringly  around  the  house.  But 
when  the  chattering  of  a  saucy  robin  became  an- 
noying, she  flung  a  cherry  at  him  crossly. 

"Oh,  chase  yourself!"  she  cried.  And  nearly  fell 
'from  her  perch  in  dismay  when  a  low  voice  frorq 
beneath  said  pleasantly: 

"I  beg  your  pardon !    Miss  Starr  ?" 

Connie  swallowed  hard,  to  get  the  last  cherry 
and  the  mortification  out  of  her  throat. 
ft 


268  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

"Yes,"  she  said,  noting  the  immaculate  white 
spring  suit,  and  the  handsome  shoes,  and  the  costly 
Panama  held  so  lightly  in  his  hand.  She  knew  the 
Panama  was  costly  because  they  had  wanted  to  buy 
one  for  her  father's  birthday,  but  decided  not  to. 

"I  am  Andrew  Hedges,"  he  explained,  smiling 
sociably. 

Connie  wilted  completely  at  that.  "Good  night," 
she  muttered  with  a  vanishing  mental  picture  of 
their  lovely  preparations  the  day  previous.  "I — • 
mean  good  morning.  I'm  so  glad  to  meet  you. 
You — you're  late,  aren't  you?  I  mean,  aren't  you 
ahead  of  yourself?  At  least,  you  didn't  write,  did 
you?" 

"No,  I  was  not  detained  so  long  as  I  had  antici- 
pated, so  I  came  right  on.  But  I'm  afraid  I'm  in- 
conveniencing you." 

"Oh,  not  a  bit,  I'm  quite  comfortable,"  she  as- 
sured him.  "Auntie  is  gone  just  now,  and  the 
twins  are  away,  too,  but  they'll  all  be  back  pres- 
ently." She  looked  longingly  at  the  house.  "I'll 
have  to  come  down,  I  suppose." 

"Let  me  help  you,"  he  offered  eagerly.  Connie 
in  the  incongruous  clothes,  with  the  little  curls 


A  MILLIONAIRE'S  SON  269 

straying  beneath  the  ragged  ribbon,  and  with  stains 
of  cherry  on  her  lips,  looked  more  presentable  than 
Connie  knew. 

"Oh,  I—"  she  hesitated,  flushing.  ,"Mr.  Hedges," 
she  cried  imploringly,  "will  you  just  go  around  the 
corner  until  I  get  down.  I  look  fearful." 

"Not  a  bit  of  it,"  he  said.  "Let  me  take  the  cher- 
ries." 

Connie  helplessly  passed  them  down  to  him,  and 
saw  him  carefully  depositing  them  on  the  ground. 
"Just  give  me  your  hand." 

And  what  could  Connie  do  ?  She  couldn't  sternly 
order  a  millionaire's  son  to  mosy  around  the  house 
and  mind  his  own  business  until  she  got  some 
decent  clothes  on,  though  that  was  what  she  yearned 
to  do.  Instead  she  held  out  a  slender  hand,  grimy 
and  red,  with  a  few  ugly  scratches  here  and  there, 
and  allowed  herself  to  be  helped  ignominiously  out 
from  the  sheltering  branches  into  the  garish  light 
of  day. 

She  looked  at  him  reproachfully.  He  never  so 
much  as  smiled. 

"Laugh  if  you  like,"  she  said  bitterly.  "I  looked 
in  the  mirror.  I  know  all  about  it." 


270  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

"Run  along,"  he  said,  "but  don't  be  gone  long, 
will  you?  Can  you  trust  me  with  the  cherries?" 

Connie  walked  into  the  house  with  great  decorum, 
afraid  the  ragged  skirts  might  swing  revealingly, 
but  the  young  man  bent  over  the  cherries  while  she 
made  her  escape. 

It  was  another  Connie  who  appeared  a  little  later, 
a  typical  tennis  girl,  all  in  white  from  the  velvet 
band  in  her  hair  to  the  canvas  shoes  on  her  dainty 
Teet.  She  held  out  the  slender  hand,  no  longer 
grimy  and  stained,  but  its  whiteness  still  marred 
with  sorry  scratches. 

"I  am  glad  to  see  you,"  she  said  gracefully, 
"though  I  can  only  pray  you  won't  carry  a  mental 
picture  of  me  very  long." 

"I'm  afraid  I  will  though,"  he  said  teasingly. 

**Tlien  please  don't  paint  me  verbally  for  my 
sisters'  ears;  they  are  always  so  clever  where  I  am 
concerned.  It  is  too  bad  they  are  out.  You'll  stay 
for  luncheon  with  me,  won't  you  ?  I'm  all  alone, — - 
we'll  have  it  in  the  yard." 

"It  sounds  very  tempting,  but — perhaps  I  had 
better  come  again  later  in  the  afternoon." 

"You  may  do  that,  too,"  said  Connie.    "But  since 


A  MILLIONAIRE'S  SON  271 

you  are  here,  I'm  afraid  I  must  insist  tHat  you  Help 
amuse  me."  And  she  added  ruefully,  "Since  I  have 
done  so  well  amusing  you  this  morning." 

"Why,  he's  just  like  anybody  else,"  she  was  think- 
ing with  relief.  "It's  no  trouble  to  talk  to  him,  at 
all.  He's  nice  in  spite  of  the  millions.  Prudence 
says  millionaires  aren't  half  so  dollar-marked  as 
they  are  cartooned,  anyhow." 

He  stayed  for  luncheon,  he  even  helped  carry  the 
folding  table  out  beneath  the  cherry  tree,  and  trotted 
docilely  back  and  forth  with  plates  and  glasses,  as 
Connie  decreed. 

"Oh,  father,"  she  chuckled  to  herself,  as  she 
stood  at  the  kitchen  window,  twinkling  at  the  sight 
of  the  millionaire's  son  spreading  sandwiches  ac- 
cording to  her  instructions.  "Oh,  'father^  the  boy 
question  is  complicated,  sure  enough." 

It  was  not  until  they  were  at  luncheon  that  the 
grand  idea  visited  Connie.  Carol  would  have  of- 
fered if  harborage  long  before.  Carol's  mind 
worked  best  along  that  very  line.  It  came  to  Connie 
slowly,  but  she  gave  it  royal  welcome.  Back  td 
her  remembrance  flashed  the  thousand  witty  sallies 
o'f  Carol  and  Lark,  the  Hundreds  o'f  times  she  had 


272  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

suffered  at  their  hands.  And  for  the  first  time  in 
her  life,  she  saw  a  clear  way  of  getting  even.  And 
a  millionaire's  son!  Never  was  such  a  revenge 
fairly  crying  to  be  perpetrated. 

"Will  you  do  something  for  me,  Mr.  Hedges?" 
she  asked.  Connie  was  only  sixteen,  but  something 
that  is  born  in  woman  told  her  to  lower  her  eyes 
shyly,  and  then  look  up  at  him  quickly  beneath  her 
lashes.  She  was  no  flirt,  but  she  believed  in  utiliz- 
ing her  resources.  And  she  saw  in  a  flash  that  the 
ruse  worked. 

Then  she  told  him  softly,  very  prettily. 

"But  won't  she  dislike  me  if  I  do?"  he  asked. 

"No,  she  won't,"  said  Connie.  "We're  a  family 
of  good  laughers.  We  enjoy  a  joke  nearly  as  much 
when  it's  on  us,  as  when  we  are  on  top." 

So  it  was  arranged,  and  shortly  after  luncheon 
the  young  man  in  the  immaculate  spring  suit  took 
his  departure.  Then  Connie  summoned  her  aunt 
by  phone,  and  told  her  she  must  hasten  home  to 
help  "get  ready  for  the  millionaire's  son."  It  was 
after  two  when  the  twins  arrived,  and  Connie  and 
their  aunt  hurried  them  so  violently  that  they  hadn't 
time  to  ask  how  Connie  got  her  information. 


A  MILLIONAIRE'S  SON  273 

"But  I  hope  I'm  slick  enough  to  get  out  of  it 
without  lying  if  they  do  ask,"  she  told  herself. 
"Prudence  says  it's  not  really  wicked  to  get  out  of 
telling  things  if  we  can  manage  it." 

He  had  arrived !  A  millionaire's  son !  Instantly 
their  enthusiasm  returned  to  them.  The  cushions 
on  the  couch  were  carefully  arranged  for  the  reclin- 
ing of  the  semi-invalid  aunt,  who,  with  the  sweet 
young  daughter  of  the  home,  was  up-stairs  waiting 
to  be  summoned.  Connie,  with  the  tennis  racquet, 
was  in  the  shed,  waiting  to  arrive  theatrically. 
Carol,  in  her  trim  black  gown  with  a  white  cap  and 
apron,  was  a  dream. 

And  when  he  came  she  ushered  him  in,  curtesy- 
ing  in  a  way  known  only  on  the  stage,  and  took  his 
hat  and  stick,  and  said  softly: 

"Yes,  sir, — please  come  in,  sir, — I'll  call  the 
ladies." 

She  knew  she  was  bewitching,  of  course,  since 
she  had  done  it  on  purpose,  and  she  lifted  her  eyes 
just  far  enough  beneath  the  lashes  to  give  the  prop- 
erly coquettish  effect.  He  caught  her  hand,  and 
drew  her  slowly  toward  him,  admiration  in  his  eyes, 
but  trepidation  in  his  heart,  as  he  followed  Connie's 


274  PRUDENCE  SAYS  S6 

coaching1.  But  Carol  was  panic-seized,  she  broke 
away  from  him  roughly  and  ran  up-stairs,  forget- 
(ting  her  carefully  rehearsed.  "Oh,  no,  sir, — oh, 
please,  sir, — you'd  better  wait  for  the  ladies." 

But  once  out  of  reach  she  regained  her  com- 
posure. The  semi-invalid  aunt  trailed  down  the 
stairs,  closely  followed  by  the  attentive  maid  to 
arrange  her  chair  and  adjust  the  silken  shawl.  Mr. 
Hedges  introduced  himself,  feeling  horribly  foolish 
in  the  presence  of  the  lovely  serving  girl,  and  wish- 
ing she  would  take  herself  off.  But  she  lingered 
effectively,  whisperingly  softly: 

"Shall  I  lower  the  window,  madame?  Is  it  too 
cool  ?  Your  bottle,  madame !" 

And  the  guest  rubbed  his  hand  swiftly  across  his 
face  to  hide  the  slight  twitching  of  his  lips. 

Then  the  model  maid  disappeared,  and  presently 
the  sweet  daughter  of  the  house,  charming  in  the 
gray  silk  mull  and  satin  slippers,  appeared,  smiling, 
talking,  full  of  vivacity  and  life.  And  after  a 
while  the  dashing  tennis  girl  strolled  in,  smil- 
ing inscrutably  into  the  eyes  that  turned  so  quizzi- 
cally toward  her.  For  a  time  all  went  well. 
The  chaperoning  aunt  occasionally  lifted  a  dainty 


A  MILLIONAIRE'S  SON  275 

i 

cologne  bottle  to  her  sensitive  nostrils,   and  the 

daughter  of  the  house  carried  out  her  girlish 
vivacity  to  the  point  of  utter  weariness.  Connie 
said  little,  but  her  soul  expanded  with.the  foretaste 
of  triumph. 

"Dinner  is  served,  madame,"  said  the  soft  voice 
at  the  door,  and  they  all  walked  out  sedately.  Carol 
adjusted  the  invalid  auntie's  shawl  once  more,  and 
was  ready  to  go  to  the  kitchen  when  a  quiet: 

"Won't  Miss  Carol  sit  down  with  us?"  made  her 
stop  dead  in  her  tracks. 

He  had  pulled  a  chair  from  the  corner  up  to  the 
table  for  her,  and  she  dropped  into  it.  She  put  her 
elbows  on  the  table,  and  leaning  her  dainty  chin  in 
her  hands,  gazed  thoughtfully  at  Connie,  whose 
eyes  were  bright  with  the  fires  of  victory. 

"Ah,  Connie,  I  have  hopes  of  you  yet,- — you  are 
improving,"  she  said  gently.  "Will  you  run  out 
to  the  kitchen  and  bring  me  a  bowl  of  soup,  my 
child?" 

And  then  came  laughter,  full  and  free, — and  in 
the  midst  of  it  Carol  looked  up,  wiping  her  eyes, 
and  said: 


276  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

"I'm  sorry  now  I  didn't  let  you  kiss  me,  just  to 
shock  father !" 

But  the  visit  was  a  great  success.  Even  Mr. 
Starr  realized  that.  The  millionaire's  son  remained 
in  Mount  Mark  four  days,  the  cynosure  of  all  eyes, 
for  as  Carol  said,  "What's  the  use  of  bothering  with 
a  millionaire's  son  if  you  can't  brag  about  him." 

And  his  devotion  to  his  father's  college  chum  was 
such  that  he  wrote  to  him  regularly  for  a  long  time 
after,  and  came  westward  now  and  again  to  renew 
the  friendship  so  auspiciously  begun. 

"But  you  can't  £all  him  a  problem,  father,"  said 
Carol  keenly.  "They  aren't  problematic  until  they 
'discriminate.  And  he  doesn't.  He's  as  fond  of 
Connie's  conscience  as  he  is  of  my  complexion,  as 
far  as  I  can  see."  She  rubbed  her  velvet  skin 
regretfully.  She  had  two  pimples  yesterday  and 
he  never  even  noticed  them.  Then  she  leaned  for- 
ward and  smiled.  "Father,  you  keep  an  eye  on 
Connie.  There's  something  in  there  that  we  aren't 
on  to  yet."  And  with  this  cryptic  remark,  Carol 
turned  her  attention  to  a  small  jar  of  cold  cream 
the  druggist  had  given  her  to  sample. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE  TWINS  HAVE  A  PROPOSAL 

IT  was  half  past  three  on  a  delightful  summer 
afternoon.  The  twins  stood  at  the  gate  with 
two  hatless  youths,  performing  what  seemed  to  be 
the  serious  operation  of  separating  their  various 
tennis  racquets  and  shoes  from  the  conglomerate 
jumble.  Finally,  laughing  and  tailing  back  over 
their  shoulders,  they  sauntered  lazily  up  the  walk 
toward  the  house,  and  the  young  men  set  off  in  the 
direction  from  which  they  had  come.  They  were 
hardly  out  of  hearing  distance  when  the  front  door 
opened,  and  Aunt  Grace  beckoned  hurriedly  to  the 
twins. 

"Come  on,  quick,"  she  said.  '"Where  in  the 
world  have  you  been  all  day?  Did  you  have  any 
luncheon?  Mrs.  Forrest  and  Jim  were  here,  and 
they  invited  you  to  go  home  with  them  for  a  week 
in  the  country.  I  said  I  knew  you'd  want  to  go, 

277 


278  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

and  they  promised  to  come  for  you  at  four,  but  I 
couldn't  find  you  any  place.  I  suppose  it  is  too  late 
now.  It's — " 

"A  week!" 

"AtForrests'F" 

"Come  on,  Lark,  sure  we  have  time  enough. 
We'll  be  ready  in  fifteen  minutes." 

"Come  on  up,  auntie,  we'll  tell  you  where  we've 
been." 

The  twins  flew  up  the  stairs,  their  aunt  as  close 
behind  as  she  deemed  safe.  Inside  their  own  room 
they  promptly,  and  ungracefully,  kicked  off  their 
loose  pumps,  tossed  their  tennis  shoes  and  racquets 
on  the  bed,  and  began  tugging  at  the  cords  of  their 
middy  blouses. 

"You  go  and  wash,  Carol,"  said  Lark,  "while  I 
comb.  Then  I  can  have  the  bathroom  to  myself. 
And  hurry  up!  You  haven't  any  time  to  primp." 

"Pack  the  suit-case  and  the  bag,  will  you,  auntie, 
and—" 

"I  already  have,"  she  answered,  laughing  at  their 
frantic  energy.  "And  I  put  out  these  white  dresses 
for  you  to  wear,  and — " 

"Gracious,    auntie!      They   button    in   the   back 


,THE  TWINS  HAVE  A  PROPOSAL    279 

and  have  sixty  buttons  apiece.  We'll  never  have 
time  to  fasten  them,"  expostulated  Carol,  without 
diminishing  her  speed. 

"I'll  button  while  you  powder,  that'll  be  time 
enough." 

"I  won't  have  time  to  powder,"  called  back  Carol 
from  the  bathroom,  where  she  was  splashing  the 
water  at  a  reckless  rate.  "I'll  wear  a  veil  and 
powder  when  I  get  there.  Did  you  pack  any  clean 
handkerchiefs,  auntie?  I'm  clear  out.  If  you 
didn't  put  any  in,  you'd  better  go  and  borrow  Con- 
nie's. Lucky  thing  she's  not  here." 

Shining  with  zeal  and  soap,  Carol  dashed  out, 
and  Lark  dashed  in. 

"Are  there  any  holes  in  these  stockings?"  Carol 
turned  around,  lifting  her  skirts  for  inspection. 
"Well,  I'm  sorry,  I  won't  have  time  to  change  them. 
— Did  they  come  in  the  auto?  Good!"  She  was 
brushing  her  hair  as  she  talked.  "Yes,  we  had  a 
luncheon,  all  pie,  though.  We  played  tennis  this 
morning;  we  were  intending  to  come  home  right 
along,  or  we'd  have  phoned  you.  [We  were  playing^ 
with  George  Castle  and  Fritzie  Zale. — Is  it  sticking 
out  any  place?"  She  lowered  her  Head  backward 


280  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

for  her  aunt  to  see.  "Stick  a  pin  in  it,  will  you? 
Thanks.  They  dared  us  to  go  to  the  pie  counter 
and  see  which  couple  could  eat  the  most  pieces  of 
lemon  pie,  the  couple  which  lost  paying  for  all  tne 
pie.  It's  not  like  betting,  you  know,  it's  a  kind  of 
reward  of  merit,  like  a  Sunday-school  prize.  No,  I 
won't  put  on  my  slippers  till  the  last  thing,  my 
heel's  sore,  my  tennis  shoe  rubbed  the  skin  off.  My 
feet  seem  to  be  getting  tender.  Think  it's  old  age  ?" 

Lark  now  emerged  from  the  bathroom,  and  both 
twins  performed  a  flying  exchange  of  dresses. 

"Who  won?" 

"Lark  and  George  ate  eleven  pieces,  and  Fritzie 
and  I  only  nine.  So  Fritzie  paid.  Then  we  went 
on  the  campus  and  played  mumble-te-peg,  or  what- 
ever you  call  it.  It  is  French,  auntie." 

"Did  they  ask  us  to  stay  a  whole  week,  auntie?" 
inquired  Lark. 

"Yes.  Jim  was  wearing  his  new  gray  suit  and 
looked  very  nice.  I've  never  been  out  to  their 
home.  Is  it  very  nice?" 

"Um,  swell !"  This  was  from  Carol,  Lark  being 
less  slangily  inclined.  "They  have  about  sixteen 
rooms,  and  two  maids — they  call  them  'girls'*— and 


THE  TWINS  HAVE  A  PROPOSAL    281 

electric  lights,  and  a  private  water  supply,  and — and 
— horses,  and  cows — oh,  it's  great!  We've  always 
been  awfully  fond  of  Jim.  The  nicest  thing  about 
him  is  that  he  always  takes  a  girl  home  when  he 
goes  to  class  things  and  socials.  I  can't  endure  a 
fellow  who  walks  home  by  himself.  Jim  always 
asks  Larkie  and  me  first,  and  if  we  are  taken  he 
gets  some  one  else.  Most  boys,  if  they  can't  get 
first  choice,  pike  off  alone." 

"Here,  Carol,  you  have  my  petticoat.  This  is 
yours.  You  broke  the  drawstring,  and  forgot — " 

"Oh,  mercy,  so  I  did.  Here,  auntie,  pin  it  over 
for  me,  will  you?  I'll  take  the  string  along  and 
put  it  in  to-night." 

"Now,  Carol,"  said  Aunt  Grace,  smiling.  "Be 
easy  on  him.  He's  so  nice  it  would  be  a  shame 
to—" 

Carol  threw  up  her  eyes  in  horror.  "I  am 
shocked,"  she  cried.  Then  she  dimpled.  "But  I 
wouldn't  hurt  Jim  for  anything.  I'm  very  fond  of 
him.  Do  you  really  think  there  are  any — er — indi- 
jcations — " 

"Oh,  I  don't  know  anything  about  it.  I'm  just 
judging  by  the  rest  of  the  community." 


282  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

Lark  was  performing  the  really  difficult  feat  of 
putting  on  and  buttoning  her  slippers  standing  on 
one  foot  for  the  purpose  and  stooping  low.  Her 
face  was  flushed  from  the  exertion. 

"Do  you  think  he's  crazy  about  you,  Carol  ?"  she 
inquired,  rather  seriously,  and  without  looking  up 
from  the  shoe  she  was  so  laboriously  buttoning. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know.  There  are  a  few  circum- 
stances which  seem  to  point  that  way.  Take  that 
new  gray  suit  for  instance.  Now  you  know  your- 
self, Lark,  he  didn't  need  a  new  gray  suit,  and  when 
a  man  gets  a  brand-new  suit  for  no  apparent  rea- 
son, you  can  generally  put  it  down  that  he's  waxing 
romantic.  Then  there's  his  mother — she's  begun 
telling  me  all  his  good  points,  and  how  cute  he  was 
when  he  was  born,  and  she  showed  me  one  of  his 
curls  and  a  lot  of  his  baby  pictures — it  made  Jim 
wild  when  he  came  in  and  caught  her  at  it,  and 
she  tells  me  how  good  he  is  and  how  much  money 
he's  got.  That's  pointed,  very.  But  I  must  con- 
fess," she  concluded  candidly,  "that  Jim  himself 
doesn't  act  very  loverly." 

"He  thinks  lots  of  you,  I  know,"  said  Lark,  still 


THE  TWINS  HAVE  A  PROPOSAL    283 

seriously.  "Whenever  he's  alone  with  me  he  praises 
you  every  minute  of  the  time." 

"That's  nothing.  When  he's  alone  with  me  he 
praises  you  all  the  time,  too.  Where's  my  hat, 
Lark?  I'll  bet  Connie  wore  it,  the  little  sinner! 
Now  what  shall  I  do  ?" 

"You  left  it  in  the  barn  yesterday, — don't  you 
remember  you  hung  it  on  the  harness  hook  when 
we  went  out  for  eggs,  and — " 

"Oh,  so  I  did.  There  comes  Connie  now." 
Carol  thrust  her  head  out  of  the  window.  "Con- 
pie,  run  out  to  the  barn  and  bring  my  hat,  will 
you?  It's  on  the  harness  hook.  And  hurry!  Don't 
stop  to  ask  questions,  just  trot  along  and  do  as 
you're  told." 

Carol  returned  again  to  her  toilet.  "Well,  I 
guess  I  have  time  to  powder  after  all.  I  don't  sup- 
pose we'll  need  to  take  any  money,  auntie,  do  you? 
tWe  won't  be  able  to  spend  it  in  the  country." 

"I  think  you'd  better  take  a  little.  They  might 
drive  to  town,  or  go  to  a  social,  or  something." 

"Can't  do  it.     Haven't  a  cent." 

"Well,  I  guess  I  can  lend  you  a  little,"  was  the 


£84  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

smiling  reply.  It  was  a  standing  joke  in  the  family 
that  Carol  had  been  financially  hard  pressed  ever 
since  she  began  using  powder  several  years  previous. 

"Are  you  fond  of  Jim,  Carol?"  Lark  jumped 
away  backward  in  the  conversation,  asking  the  ques- 
tion gravely,  her  eyes  upon  her  sister's  face. 

"Hum!  Yes,  I  am,"  was  the  light  retort  "Didn't 
Prudence  teach  us  to  love  everybody?" 

"Don't  be  silly.  I  mean  if  he  proposes  to  you, 
are  you  going  to  turn  him  down,  or  not?" 

"What  would  you  advise,  Lark?"  Carol's  brows 
were  painfully  knitted.  "He's  got  five  hundred 
acres  of  land,  worth  at  least  a  hundred  an  acre,  and 
a  lot  of  money  in  the  bank, — his  mother  didn't  say 
how  much,  but  I  imagine  several  thousand  any- 
how. And  he  has  that  nice  big  house,  and  an  auto, 
and — oh,  everything  nice !  Think  of  the  fruit  trees, 
Larkie!  And  he's  good-looking,  too.  And  his 
mother  says  he  is  always  good  natured  even  before 
breakfast,  and  that's  very  exceptional,  you  know! 
Very!  I  don't  know  that  I  could  do  much  better, 
do  you,  auntie?  I'm  sure  I'd  look  cute  in  a  sun- 
bonnet  and  apron,  milking  the  cows !  So,  boss,  so, 
there,  now!  So,  boss!" 


THE  TWINS  HAVE  A  PROPOSAL    285 

"Why,  Carol!" 

"But  there  are  objections,  too.  They  have  pigs. 
I  can't  bear  pigs!  Pooooey,  pooooey!  The  filthy 
little  things !  I  don't  know, — Jim  and  the  gray  suit 
and  the  auto  and  the  cows  are  very  nice,  but  when 
I  think  of  Jim  and  overalls  and  pigs  and  onions 
and  freckles  I  have  goose  flesh.  Here  they  come! 
Where's  that  other  slipper?  Oh,  it's  clear  under 
the  bed !"  She  wriggled  after  it,  coming  out  again 
breathless.  "Did  I  rub  the  powder  all  off?"  she 
asked  anxiously. 

The  low  honk  of  the  fcar  sounded  outside,  and 
the  twins  dumped  a  miscellaneous  assortment  of 
toilet  articles  into  the  battered  suit-case  and  the 
tattered  hand-bag.  Carol  grabbed  her  hat  from 
Connie,  leisurely  strolling  through  the  hall  with  it, 
and  sent  her  flying  after  her  gloves.  "If  you  can't 
find  mine,  bring  your  own,"  she  called  after  her. 

Aunt  Grace  and  Connie  escorted  them  trium- 
phantly down  the  walk  to  the  waiting  car  where 
the  young  man  in  the  new  sentimental  gray  suit 
stood  beside  the  open  door.  His  face  was  boyishly 
eager,  and  his  eyes  were  full  of  a  satisfaction  that 
had  a  sort  of  excitement  in  it,  too.  Aunt  Grace 


286  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

looked  at  him  and  sighed.  "Poor  boy,"  she  thought. 
"He  is  nice!  Carol  is  a  mean  little  thing!" 

He  smiled  at  the  twins  impartially.  "Shall  we 
flip  a  coin  to  see  who  I  get  in  front?"  he  asked 
them,  laughing. 

His  mother  leaned  out  from  the  back  seat,  and 
smiled  at  the  girls  very  cordially.  "Hurry,  twin- 
nies,"  she  said,  "we  must  start,  or  we'll  be  late  for 
\upper.  Come  in  with  me,  won't  you,  Larkie?" 

"What  a  greasy  schemer  she  is,"  thought  Carol, 
climbing  into  her  place  without  delay. 

Jim  placed  the  battered  suit-case  and  the  tattered 
bag  beneath  the  seat,  and  drew  the  rug  over  his 
mother's  knees.  Then  he  went  to  Lark's  side,  and 
tucked  it  carefully  about  her  feet 

"It's  awfully  dusty,"  he  said.  "You  shouldn't 
have  dolled  up  so.  Shall  I  put  your  purse  in  my 
pocket?  Don't  forget  you  promised  to  feed  the 
chickens — I'm  counting  on  you  to  do  it  for  me." 

Then  he  stepped  in  beside  Carol,  laughing  into 
her  bright  face,  and  the  good-bys  rang  back  and 
forth  as  the  car  rolled  away  beneath  the  heavy 
arch  of  oak  leaves  that  roofed  in  Maple  Avenue. 

The  twins   fairly  reveled  in  the  glories  of  the 


THE  TWINS  HAVE  A  PROPOSAL    287 

country  through  the  golden  days  that  followed,  and 
enjoyed  every  minute  of  every  day,  and  begrudged 
the  hours  they  spent  in  sleep.  The  time  slipped  by 
"like  banana  skins,"  declared  Carol  crossly,  and 
refused  to  explain  her  comparison.  And  the  last 
day  of  their  visit  came.  Supper  was  over  at  seven 
o'clock,  and  Lark  said,  with  something  of  wistful- 
ness  in  her  voice,  "I'm  going  out  to  the  orchard 
for  a  farewell  weep  all  by  myself.  !And  don't  any 
of  you  disturb  me, — I'm  so  ugly  when  I  cry." 

'So  she  set  out  alone,  and  Jim,  a  little  awkwardly, 
suggested  that  Carol  take  a  turn  or  so  up  and  down 
the  lane  with  him.  Mrs.  Forrest  stood  at  the  win- 
dow and  watched  them,  tearful-eyed,  but  with  ten- 
derness. 

"My  little  boy,"  she  said  to  herself,  "my  little 
boy.  But  she's  a  dear,  sweet,  pretty  girl." 

In  the  meantime,  Jim  was  acquitting  himself 
badly.  His  face  was  pale.  He  was  nervous,  ill  at 
ease.  He  stammered  when  he  spoke.  Self-con- 
sciousness was  not  habitual  to  this  young  man  of 
the  Iowa  farm.  He  was  not  the  awkward,  ignor- 
ant, gangling  farm-hand  we  meet  in  books  and  see 
on  stages.  He  had  attended  the  high  school  in  Mount 


288  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

Mark,  and  had  been  graduated  from  the  state  agri- 
cultural college  with  high  honors.  He  was  a  farm- 
er, as  his  father  had  been  before  him,  but  he  was 
a  farmer  of  the  new  era,  one  of  those  men  who 
takes  plain  farming  and  makes  it  a  profession,  al- 
most a  fine  art.  Usually  he  was  self-possessed,  as- 
sertive, confident,  but,  in  the  presence  of  this  spark- 
ling twin,  for  once  he  was  abashed. 

Carol  was  in  an  ecstasy  of  delight.  She  was  not 
a  man-eater,  perhaps,  but  she  was  nearly  romance- 
mad.  She  thought  only  of  the  wild  excitement  of 
having  a  sure-enough  lover,  the  hurt  of  it  was  yet  a 
little  beyond  her  grasp.  "Oh,  Carol,  don't  be  so 
sweet,"  Lark  had  begged  her  once.  "How  can  the 
boys  help  being  crazy  about  you,  and  it  hurts 
them."  "It  doesn't  hurt  anything  but  their  pride 
when  they  get  snubbed,"  had  been  the  laughing 
answer.  "Do  you  want  to  break  men's  hearts?" 
"Well, — it's  not  at  all  bad  for  a  man  to  have  a 
broken  heart,"  the  irrepressible  Carol  had  insisted. 
"They  never  amount  to  anything  until  they  have  a 
real  good  disappointment.  Then  they  brace  up  and 
amount  to  something.  See?  I  really  think  it's  a 


THE  TWINS  HAVE  A  PROPOSAL    289 

kindness  to  give  them  a  heart-break,  and  get  them 
started." 

The  callow  youths  of  Mount  Mark,  of  the  Ep- 
worth  League,  and  the  college,  were  almost  unani- 
mous in  laying  their  adoration  at  Carol's  feet.  But 
Carol  saw  the  elasticity,  the  buoyancy,  of  loves  like 
these,  and  she  couldn't  really  count  them.  She  felt 
that  she  was  ripe  for  a  bit  of  solid  experience  now, 
and  there  was  nothing  callow  about  Jim — he  was 
solid  enough.  And  now,  although  she  could  see  that 
his  feelings  stirred,  she  felt  nothing  but  excitement 
and  curiosity.  A  proposal,  a  real  one!  It  was 
imminent,  she  felt  it. 

"Carol,"  he  began  abruptly,  "I  am  in  love." 

"A-are  you?"  Carol  had  not  expected  him  to 
begin  in  just  that  way. 

"Yes, — I  have  been  for  a  long  time,  with  the 
sweetest  and  dearest  girl  in  the  world.  I  know  I 
am  not  half  good  enough  for  her,  but — I  love  her 
so  much  that — I  believe  I  could  make  her  happy." 

"D-do  you?"  Carol  was  frightened.  She  re- 
flected that  it  wasn't  so  much  fun  as  she  had  ex- 
pected. Jhere  was  something  wonderful  in  his 


29o  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

eyes,  and  in  his  voice.  Maybe  Lark  was  right, — 
maybe  it  did  hurt!  Oh,  she  really  shouldn't  have 
been  quite  so  nice  to  him! 

"She  is  young — so  am  I — but  I  know  what  I 
want,  and  if  I  can  only  have  her,  I'll  do  anything 
I — "  His  voice  broke  a  little.  He  looked  very 
handsome,  very  grown-up,  very  manly.  Carol  quiv- 
ered. She  wanted  to  run  away  and  cry.  She 
wanted  to  put  her  arms  around  him  and  tell  him 
she  was  very,  very  sorry  and  she  would  never  do  it 
again  as  long  as  she  lived  and  breathed. 

"Of  course,"  he  went  on,  "I  am  not  a  fool.  I 
know  there  isn't  a  girl  like  her  in  ten  thousand,  but 
• — she's  the  one  I  want,  and — Carol,  do  you  reckon 
there  is  any  chance  for  me?  You  ought  to  know. 
Lark  doesn't  have  secrets  from  you,  does  she?  Do 
you  think  she'll  have  me?" 

Certainly  this  was  the  surprise  of  Carol's  life.  If 
it  was  romance  she  wanted,  here  it  was  in  plenty. 
She  stopped  short  in  the  daisy-bright  lane  and 
Stared  at  him. 

"Jim  Forrest,"  she  demanded,  "is  it  Lark  you 
want  to  marry,  or  me  ?" 

"Lark,  of  course!" 


THE  TWINS  HAVE  A  PROPOSAL    291 

Carol  opened  her  lips  and  closed  them.  She  did 
it  again.  Finally  she  spoke.  "Well,  of  all  the 
idiots!  If  you  want  to  marry  Lark,  what  in  the 
world  are  you  out  here  proposing  to  me  for  ?" 

"I'm  not  proposing  to  you,"  he  objected.  "I'm 
just  telling  you  about  it." 

"But  what  for?  What's  the  object"?!  [Why  don't 
you  go  and  rave  to  her?" 

He  smiled  a  little.  "Well,  I  guess  I  thought 
telling  you  first  was  one  way  of  breaking  it  to  her 
gently." 

"I'm  perfectly  disgusted  with  you,"  Carol  went 
on,  "perfectly.  Here  I've  been  expecting  you  to 
propose  to  me  all  week,  and — " 

"Propose  to  you !    My  stars !" 

"Don't  interrupt  me,"  Carol  snapped-  "Last 
night  I  lay  awake  for  hours, — look  at  the  rings  be- 
neath my  eyes — " 

"I  don't  see  'em,"  he  interrupted  again,  smiling 
more  broadly. 

"Just  thinking  out  a  good  flowery  rejection  for 
you,  and  then  you  trot  me  out  here  and  propose  to 
Lark!    Well,  if  that  isn't  nerve!" 
1    Jim  laughed  loudly  at  this.     He  was  used  to 


292  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

Carol,  and  enjoyed  her  little  outbursts.  "I  can't 
think  what  on  earth  made  you  imagine  I'd  want  to 
propose  to  you,"  he  said,  shaking  his  head  as 
though  appalled  at  the  idea. 

Carol's  eyes  twinkled  at  that,  but  she  did  not  per- 
mit him  to  see  it.  "Why  shouldn't  I  think  so? 
Didn't  you  get  a  new  gray  suit?  And  haven't  I  the 
best  complexion  in  Mount  Mark?  Don't  all  the  men 
want  to  propose  to  a  complexion  like  mine?" 

"Shows  their  bum  taste,"  he  muttered. 

Carol  twinkled  again.  "Of  course,"  she  agreed, 
"all  men  have  bum  taste,  if  it  comes  to  that." 

He  laughed  again,  then  he  sobered.  "Do  you 
think  Lark  will — " 

"I  think  Lark  will  turn  you  down,"  said  Carol 
promptly,  "and  I  hope  she  does.  You  aren't  good 
enough  for  her.  No  one  in  the  world  is  good 
enough  for  Lark  except  myself.  If  she  should  ac- 
cept you — I  don't  think  she  will,  but  if  she  has  a 
mental  aberration  and  does — I'll  give  you  my 
blessing,  and  come  and  live  with  you  six  months  in 
the  year,  and  Lark  shall  come  and  live  with  me  the 
other  six  months,  and  you  can  run  the  farm  and 


THE  TWINS  HAVE  A  PROPOSAL    293 

send  us  an  allowance.  But  I  don't  think  she'll  have 
you;  I'll  be  disappointed  in  her  if  she  does." 

Carol  was  silent  a  moment  then.  She  was  re- 
membering many  things, — Lark's  grave  face  that 
day  in  the  parsonage  when  they  had  discussed  the 
love  of  Jim,  her  unwonted  gentleness  and  her  quiet 
manners  during  this  visit,  and  one  night  when 
Carol,  suddenly  awakening,  had  found  her  weeping 
bitterly  into  her  pillow.  Lark  had  said  it  was  a 
headache,  and  was  better  now,  and  Carol  had  gone 
to  sleep  again,  but  she  remembered  now  that  Lark 
never  had  headaches!  And  she  remembered  how 
very  often  lately  Lark  had  put  her  arms  around 
her  shoulders  and  looked  searchingly  into  her  face, 
and  Lark  was  always  wistful,  too,  of  late!  She 
sighed.  Yes,  she  caught  on  at  last,  "had  been 
pushed  on  to  it,"  she  thought  angrily.  She  had  been 
a  wicked,  blind,  hateful  little  simpleton  or  she 
would  have  seen  it  long  ago.  But  she  said  nothing 
of  this  to  Jim. 

"You'd  better  run  along  then,  and  switch  your 
proposal  over  to  her,  or  I'm  likely  to  accept  you 
on  my  own  account,  just  for  a  joke.  And  be  sure 


294  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

and  tell  her  I'm  good  and  sore  that  I  didn't  get  a 
chance  to  use  my  flowery  rejection.  But  I'm  al- 
most sure  she'll  turn  you  down." 

Then  Carol  stood  in  the  path,  and  watched  Jim 
as  he  leaped  lightly  over  fences  and  ran  through 
the  sweet  meadow.  She  saw  Lark  spring  to  her 
'feet  and  step  out  from  the  shade  of  an  apple  tree, 
and  then  Jim  took  her  in  his  arms. 

After  that,  Carol  rushed  into  the  house  and  up 
the  stairs.  She  flung  herself  on  her  knees  beside 
her  bed  and  buried  her  face  in  the  white  spread. 

"Lark,"  she  whispered,  "Lark!"  She  clenched 
her  hands,  and  her  shoulders  shook.  "My  little 
twin,"  she  cried  again,  "my  nice  old  Lark."  Then 
she  got  up  and  walked  back  and  forth  across  the 
floor.  Sometimes  she  shook  her  fist.  Sometimes  a 
little  crooked  smile  softened  her  lips.  Once  she 
stamped  her  foot,  and  then  laughed  at  herself.  For 
an  hour  she  paced  up  and  down.  Then  she  turned 
on  the  light,  and  went  to  the  mirror,  where  she 
smoothed  her  hair  and  powdered  her  face  as  care- 
fully as  ever. 

"It's  a  good  joke  on  me,"  she  said,  smiling,  "but 
it's  just  as  good  a  one  on  Mrs.  Forrest.  I  think 


,THE  TWINS  HAVE  A  PROPOSAL    295 

I'll  go  and  have  a  laugh  at  her.  And  I'll  pretend 
I  knew  it  all  along." 

She  found  the  woman  lying  in  a  hammock  on  the 
broad  piazza  where  a  broad  shaft  of  light  from  the 
open  door  fell  upon  her.  Carol  stood  beside  her, 
smiling  brightly. 

"Mrs.  Forrest,"  she  said,  "I  know  a  perfectly 
delicious  secret  Shall  I  tell  you?" 

The  woman  sat  up,  holding  out  her  arms.  Carol 
dropped  on  her  knees  beside  her,  smiling  mis- 
chievously at  the  expression  on  her  face. 

"Cupid  has  been  at  work,"  she  said  softly, 
"and  your  own  son  has  fallen  a  victim." 

Mrs.  Forrest  sniffed  slightly,  but  she  looked  lov- 
ingly at  the  fair  sweet  face.  "I  am  sure  I  can  not 
wonder,"  she  answered  in  a  gentle  voice.  "Is  it  all 
settled?" 

"I  suppose  so.  A  any  rate,  he  is  proposing  to 
her  in  the  orchard,  and  I  am  pretty  sure  she's  going 
to  accept  him." 

Mrs.  Forrest's  arms  fell  away  from  Carol's 
shoulders.  "Lark!"  she  ejaculated. 

"Yes, — didn't  you  know  it?"  Carol's  voice  was 
mildly  and  innocently  surprised. 


296  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

"Lark!"  Mrs.  Forrest  was  plainly  dumfound- 
cd.  "I— I  thought  it  was  you !" 

"Me!"  Carol  was  intensely  astonished.  "Me? 
Oh,  dear  Mrs.  Forrest,  whatever  in  the  world  made 
you  think  that?" 

"Why— I  don't  know,"  she  faltered  weakly,  "I 
just  naturally  supposed  it  was  you.  I  asked  him 
once  where  he  left  his  heart,  and  he  said,  'At  the 
parsonage,'  and  so  of  course  I  thought  it  was  you." 

Carol  laughed  gaily.  "What  a  joke,"  she  cried. 
"But  you  are  more  fortunate  than  you  expected, 
for  it  is  my  precious  old  Larkie.  But  don't  be  too 
glad  about  it,  or  you  may  hurt  my  feelings." 

"Well,  I  am  surprised,  I  confess,  but  I  believe  I 
like  Lark  as  well  as  I  do  you,  and  of  course  Jim's 
the  one  to  decide.  People  say  Lark  is  more  sensi- 
ble than  you  are,  but  it  takes  a  good  bit  of  a  man  to 
get  beyond  a  face  as  pretty  as  yours.  I'm  kind  o' 
proud  of  Jim  t" 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE  GIRL  WHO  WOULDN'T   PROPOSE 

IT  took  a  long  time  for  Carol  to  recover  from 
the  effect  of  Lark's  disloyalty,  as  she  persisted 
in  calling  it.  For  several  weeks  she  didn't  twinkle 
at  all.  But  when  at  last  the  smiles  came  easy  again, 
she  wrote  to  Mr.  Duke,  her  p'fessor  no  longer,  but 
now  a  full-fledged  young  minister.  She  apologized 
sweetly  for  her  long  delay. 

"But  you  will  forgive  me  when  you  have  read 
this,"  she  wrote.  "Cupid  is  working  havoc  in  our 
family.  Of  course,  no  one  outside  the  home  circle 
knows  yet,  but  I  insisted  on  telling  you  because  you 
have  been  such  a  grand  good  friend  to  us  for  so  long. 
We  may  seem  young  to  you,  because  you  can't  for- 
get when  we  were  freshmen,  but  we  are  really 
very  grown  up.  We  act  quite  mature  now,  and 
never  think  of  playing  jokes.  ^  But  I  didn't  finish 
my  news,  did  I? 

297 


298  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

"It  is  Jim  Forrest — He  was  in  high  school  when 
we  were.  Remember  him?  Larkie  and  I  were  out 
to  spend  a  week,  and — but  I  needn't  go  into  parti- 
culars. I  knew  you  would  be  interested.  The 
whole  family  is  very  happy  about  it,  he  is  a  great 
'favorite  with  every  one.  But  how  our  family  is 
going  to  pieces!  Still,  since  it  is  Jim — !  He  is 
nice,  isn't  he?  But  you  wouldn't  dare  say  no." 

Carol's  eyes  glittered  wickedly  as  she  sealed  this 
letter,  which  she  had  penned  with  greatest  care. 
And  a  few  days  later,  when  the  answer  came,  she 
danced  gleefully  up  the  stairs, — not  at  all  "mature" 
in  manner,  and  locked  the  door  behind  her  while 
she  read: 

"Dear  Carol: 

"Indeed  I  am  very  interested,  and  I  wish  you  all 
the  joy  in  the  world.  Tell  Jim  for  me  how  very 
much  I  think  he  is  to  be  congratulated.  He  seems 
a  fine  fellow,  and  I  know  you  will  be  happy.  It 
was  a  surprise,  I  admit — I  knew  he  was  doing  the 
very  devoted-^-but  you  have  seemed  so  young  to 
ine,  always,  I  can't  imagine  you  tod  grown  up  ' 


GIRL  WHO  WOULDN'T  PROPOSE  299 

jokes,  though  you  do  sound  more  'mature*  in  this 
letter  than  you  have  before.  Lark  will  be  lonely,  I 
am  afraid. 

"I  am  very  busy  with  my  work,  so  you  will  un- 
derstand if  my  letters  come  less  frequently,  won't 
you?  And  you  will  be  too  busy  with  your  own 
happiness  to  bother  with  an  old  professor  any  more 
anyhow.  I  have  enjoyed  our  friendship,  very  much, 
• — more  than  you  will  ever  know, — and  I  want  once 
more  to  hope  you  may  be  the  happiest  wQjnan  in 
the  world.  You  deserve  to  be. 

"Very  sincerely  your  friend, 

"DAVID  A.  DUKE/' 

Carol  lay  down  on  the  bed  and  crushed  the  letter 
ecstatically  between  her  hands.  Then  she  burst  out 
laughing.  Then  she  cried  a  little,  nervously,  and 
laughed  again.  Then  she  smoothed  the  letter  affec- 
tionately, and  curled  up  on  the  bed  with  a  pad  of 
paper  and  her  father's  fountain-pen  to  answer  the 
letter. 

"My  dear  Mr.  Duke:  However  in  the  world 
could  you  make  such  a  mistake.  I've  been  laugh- 


300  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

ing  ever  since  I  got  your  letter,  but  I'm  vexed  too. 
He's  nice,  all  right;  he's  just  fine,  but  I  don't  want 
him!  And  think  how  annoyed  Lark  would  be  if 
she  could  see  it.  I  am  not  engaged  to  Jim  For- 
rest,— nor  to  any  one.  It's  Lark.  I  certainly  didn't 
say  it  was  I,  did  I  ?  We're  all  so  'fond  of  Jim  that 
it  really  is  a  pleasure  to  the  whole  family  to  count 
him  one  of  us,  and  Lark  grows  more  deliriously 
joyful  all  the  time.  But  I!  I  know  you're  awfully 
busy,  of  course,  and  I  hate  to  intrude,  but  you  must 
write  one  little  postal  £ard  to  apologize  for  your 
error,  and  I'll  understand  how  hard  you  are  work- 
ing when  you  do  not  write  again. 

"Hastily,  but  always  sincerely, 

"CAROL." 

Carol  jumped  up  ancl  caught  up  her  hat  and 
rushed  all  the  way  down-town  to  the  post-office  to 
get  that  letter  started  "for  Danville,  Illinois,  where 
the  Reverend  Mr.  Duke  was  located.  Her  face  was 
so  radiant,  and  her  eyes  were  so  heavenly  blue,  and 
so  sparkling  bright,  that  people  on  the  street  turn- 
ed to  look  after  her  admiringly. 

SHe  was  feverishly  impatient  until  the  answer 


GIRL  WHO  WOULDN'T  PROPOSE   301 

arrived,  and  was  not  at  all  surprised  that  it  came 
under  special  delivery  stamp,  though  Lark  lifted 
her  eyebrows  quizzically,  and  Aunt  Grace  smiled 
suggestively,  and  her  father  looked  up  with  sud- 
den questioning  in  his  face.  Carol  made  no  com- 
ment, only  ran  up  to  her  room  and  locked  the 
door  once  more. 

"Carol,  you  awful  little  scamp,  you  did  that  on 
purpose,  and  you  know  it.  You  never  mentioned 
Lark's  name.  Well,  if  you  wanted  to  give  me  the 
scare  of  my  life,  you  certainly  succeeded.  I  didn't 
want  to  lose  my  little  chum,  and  I  knew  very  well 
that  no  man  in  his  proper  senses  would  allow  his 
sweetheart  to  be  as  good  a  comrade  to  another 
man  as  I  want  you  to  be  to  me.  Of  course  I  was 
disappointed.  Of  course  I  expected  to  be  busy  for 
a  while.  Of  course  I  failed  to  see  the  sterling 
worth  of  Jim  Forrest.  I  see  it  now,  though.  I 
think  he's  a  prince,  and  as  near  worth  being  in  your 
family  as  anybody  could  be.  I'm  sure  we'll  be 
great  friends,  and  tell  Lark  for  me  that  I  am  wax- 
ing enthusiastic  over  his  good  qualities  even  to  the 
point  of  being  inarticulate.  Tell  her  how  happy  I 


302  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

am  over  it,  a  good  deal  happier  than  I've  been  for 
the  past  several  days,  and  I  am  wishing  them  both 
a  world  of  joy.  I'm  having  one  myself,  and  I  find 
it  well  worth  having.  I  could  shake  you,  Carol,  for 
playing  such  a  trick  on  me.  I  can  just  see  you 
crouch  down  and  giggle  when  you  read  this.  .You 
wait,  my  lady.  My  turn  is  coming.  I  think  I'll 
run  down  to  Mount  Mark  next  week  to  see  my  uncle 
• — he's  not  very  well.  Don't  have  any  dates. 

"Sincerely,  D.  D." 

!A!nd  Carol  laughed  again,  and  wiped  Her  eyes. 

The  Reverend  Mr.  Duke's  devotion  to  his  elderly 
uncle  in  Mount  Mark  was  a  most  beautiful  thing  to 
see.  Every  few  weeks  he  "ran1  down  for  a  few: 
days,"  and  if  he  spent  most  of  his  time  recounting 
his  uncle's  symptoms  before  the  sympathetic  Starrs, 
no  one  could  be  surprised  at  that.  He  and  Mr. 
Starr  naturally  had  much  in  common,  both  minis- 
ters, and  both — at  any  rate,  he  was  very  devoted  to 
his  uncle,  and  Carol  grew  up  very,  very  fast,  and 
smiled  a  great  deal,  but  laughed  much  less  fre- 
quently than  in  other  days.  There  was  a  shy  sweet- 


ness  about  her  that  made  her  father  watch  her  anx- 
iously. 

"Is  Carol  sick,  Grate?"  he  asked  one  day,  turn- 
ing suddenly  to  his  sister-in-law. 

She  smiled  curiously.  "N-no,  I  think  not 
Why?" 

"She  seems  very — sweet." 

"Yes.  She  feels  very — sweet,"  was  the  enig- 
matical response.  And  Mr.  Starr  muttered  some- 
thing about  women  and  geometry  and  went  away, 
shaking  his  head.  And  Aunt  Grace  smiled  again. 

But  the  months  passed  away.  Lark,  not  too  ab- 
sorbed in  her  own  happiness  to  find  room  for  her 
twin's  affairs,  at  last  grew  troubled.  She  and  Aunt 
Grace  often  held  little  conferences  together  when 
Carol  was  safely  out  of  the  way. 

"Whatever  do  you  suppose  is  the  matter'?"  Lark 
would  wonder  anxiously.  To  which  her  aunt  al- 
ways answered  patiently,  "Oh,  just  wait.  He  isn't 
sure  she's  grown-up  enough  yet." 

Then  there  came  a  quiet  night  when  Carol  and 
Mr.  Duke  sat  in  the  living-room,  idly  discussing 
the  weather,  and  looking  at  Connie  who  was  deeply 


304  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

immersed  in  a  book  on  the  other  side  of  the  big 
reading  lamp.  Conversation  between  them  lagged 
so  noticeably  that  they  sighed  with  relief  when  she 
finally  laid  down  her  book,  and  twisted  around  in 
her  chair  until  she  had  them  both  in  full  view. 

"Books  are  funny,"  she  began  brightly.  "I  don't 
believe  half  the  written  stuff  ever  did  happen — I 
don't  believe  it  could.  Do  girls  ever  propose,  Mr. 
Duke?'* 

"No  one  ever  proposed  to  me,"  he  answered, 
laughing. 

"No?"  she  queried  politely.  "Maybe  no  one 
wanted  you  badly  enough.  But  I  wonder  if  they 
ever  do?  Writers  say  so.  I  can't  believe  it  some- 
how. It  seems  so — well — unnecessary,  someway. 
Carol  and  I  were  talking  about  it  this  afternoon." 

Carol  looked  up  startled. 

"What  does  Carol  think  about  it  ?"  he  queried. 

"Well,  she  said  she  thought  in  ordinary  leases 
girls  were  clever  enough  to  get  what  they  wanted 
without  asking  for  it." 

Carol  moved  restlessly  in  her  chair,  her  lace 
drooping  a  little,  and  Mr.  Duke  laughed. 

"Of  course,  I  know  none  of  our  girls  would  doi 


GIRL  WHO  WOULDN'T  PROPOSE   305 

such  a  thing,"  said  Connie,  serene  in  her  family 
pride.  "But  Carol  says  she  must  admit  she'd  like  to 
find  some  way  to  make  a  man  say  what  anybody 
could  see  with  half  an  eye  he  wanted  to  say  any- 
how, only — " 

Connie  stopped  abruptly.  Mr.  Duke  had  turned 
to  Carol,  his  keen  eyes  searching  her  face,  but  Carol 
sank  in  the  big  chair  and  turned  her  face  away  from 
him  against  the  leather  cushion. 

"Connie,"  she  said,  "of  course  no  girl  would 
propose,  no  girl  would  want  to — I  was  only  jok- 
ing-" 

Mr.  Duke  laughed  openly  then.  "Let's  go  and 
take  a  walk,  shan't  we,  Carol  ?  It's  a  grand  night." 

"You  needn't  go  to  get  rid  of  me,"  said  Connie, 
rising.  "I  was  just  going  anyhow." 

"Oh,  don't  go,"  said  Mr.  Duke  politely. 

"Don't  go,"  echoed  Carol  pleadingly. 

Connie  stepped  to  the  doorway,  then  paused  and 
looked  back  at  them.  Sudden  illumination  came  to 
her  as  she  scanned  their  faces,  the  man's  clear-cut, 
'determined,  eager — Carol's  shy,  and  scared,  and — 
hopeful.  She  turned  quickly  back  toward  her  sis- 
ter, pain  darkening  her  eyes.  Carol  was  the  last  of 


306  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

all  the  girls, — it  would  leave  her  alone, — and  he 
was  too  old  for  her.  Her  lips  quivered  a  little, 
and  her  face  shadowed  more  darkly.  But  they  did 
not  see  it.  The  man's  eyes  were  intent  on  Carol's 
lovely  features,  and  Carol  was  studying  her  slender 
fingers.  Connie  drew  a  long  breath,  and  looked 
down  upon  her  sister  with  a  great  protecting  tender- 
ness in  her  heart.  She  wanted  to  catch  her  up  in 
her  strong  young  arms  and  carry  her  wildly  out  of 
the  room — away  from  the  man  who  sat  there — 
waiting  for  her. 

Carol  lifted  her  face  at  that  moment,  and  turned 
slowly  toward  Mr.  Duke.  Connie  saw  her  eyes. 
They  were  luminous. 

Connie's  tense  figure  relaxed  then,  and  she  turn- 
ed at  once  toward  the  door.  "I  am  going,"  she 
said  in  a  low  voice.  But  she  looked  back  again  be- 
fore she  closed  the  door  after  her.  "Carol,"  she 
said  in  a  whisper,  "you — you're  a  darling.  I — I've 
always  thought  so." 

Carol  did  not  hear  her, — she  did  not  hear  the 
door  closing  behind  her — she  had  forgotten  Connie 
was  there. 


GIRL  WHO  WOULDN'T  PROPOSE   307 

Mr.  Duke  stood  up  and  walked  quickly  across 
the  room  and  Carol  rose  to  meet  him.  He  put  his 
arms  about  her,  strongly,  without  hesitating. 

"Carol,"  he  said,  "my  little  song-bird," — and  he 
laughed,  but  very  tenderly,  "would  you  like  to 
know  how  to  make  me  say  what  you  know  I  want 
to  say  ?" 

"I — I — "  she  began  tremulously,  clasping  her 
hands  against  his  breast,  and  looking  intently,  as  if 
fascinated,  at  his  square  firm  chin  so  very  near  her 
eyes.  She  had  never  observed  it  so  near  at  hand 
before.  She  thought  it  was  a  lovely  chin, — in  an- 
other man  she  would  have  called  it  distinctly 
"bossy." 

"You  would  try  to  make  me,  when  you  know; 
I've  been  gritting  my  teeth  for  years,  waiting  for 
you  to  get  grown  up.  You've  been  awfully  slow 
about  it,  Carol,  and  I've  been  in  such  a  hurry  for 
you." 

She  rested  limply  in  his  arms  now,  breathing  in 
little  broken  sighs,  not  trying  to  speak. 

"You  have  known  it  a  long  time,  haven't  you? 
And  I  thought  I  was  hiding  it  so  cleverly."  He 


3o8  PRUDENCE  SAYS  SO 

drew  her  closer  in  his  arms.  "You  are  too  young 
for  me,  Carol,"  he  said  regretfully.  "I  am  very 
old." 

"I — I  like  'em  old,"  she  whispered  shyly. 

With  one  hand  he  drew  her  head  to  his  shoulder, 
where  he  could  feel  the  warm  fragrant  breath 
against  the  "lovely  chin." 

"You  like  'them'  old,"  he  repeated,  smiling.  "You 
are  very  generous.  One  old  one  is  all  I  want  you 
to  like."  But  when  he  leaned  toward  her  lips, 
Carol  drew  away  swiftly.  "Don't  be  afraid  of 
me,  Carol.  You  didn't  mind  once  when  I  kissed 
you."  He  laid  his  hand  softly  on  her  round  cheek. 
"I  am  too  old,  dearest,  but  I've  been  loving  you  for 
years  I  guess.  I've  been  waiting  for  you  since  you 
were  a  little  freshman,  only  I  didn't  know  it  for  a 
while.  Say  something,  Carol — I  don't  want  you  to 
feel  timid  with  me.  You  love  me,  don't  you? 
Tell  me,  if  you  do." 

"I — I."  She  looked  up  at  him  desperately.  "I 
— well,  I  made  you  say  it,  didn't  I  ?" 

"Did  you  want  me  to  say  it,  dearest?  Have  you 
been  waiting,  too?  How  long  have  you — " 


GIRL  WHO  WOULDN'T  PROPOSE   309 

"Oh,  a  long  time;  since  that  night  among  the 
rose  bushes  at  the  parsonage." 

"Since  then?" 

"Yes;  that  was  why  it  didn't  break  my  pledge 
when  you  kissed  me.  Because  I — was  waiting 
then." 

"Do  you  love  me?" 

"Oh,  P'fessor,  don't  make  me  say  it  right  out  in 
plain  English — not  to-night.  I'm  pretty  nearly  going 
to  cry  now,  and — "  she  twinkled  a  little  then,  like 
herself,  "you  know  what  crying  does  to  my  gom- 
plexion." 

But  he  did  not  smile.  "Don't  cry,"  he  said. 
"We  want  to  be  happy  to-night.  You  will  tell  me 
to-morrow.  To-night — " 

"To-night,"  she  said  sweetly,  turning  in  his  arms 
so  that  her  face  was  toward  him  again,  "to- 
night— "  She  lifted  her  arms,  and  put  them  softly 
about  his  neck,  the  laces  'falling  back  and  showing 
her  pink  dimpled  elbows.  "To-night,  my  dear- 
est,— "  She  lifted  her  lips  to  him,  smiling. 


THE  END 


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